THE  LIBRARIES 


Bequest  of 

Frederic  Bancroft 

1860-1945 


LED  ON! 

STEP  BY  STEP 

SCENES   FROM  CLERICAL,  MILITARY 

EDUCATIONAL,  AND  PLANTATION 

LIFE    IN  THE   SOUTH 

1828-1898 


AN    AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
BY 

A.  TOOMER  PORTER,  D.D. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  VORK  .S:  LONDON 
^be  1Rnicf?erbocker  prcs^ 


Copyright,  i8g8 

BY 

A.  TOOMER  PORTER 


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o  Charleston,  S.  C,  October s,  i8g6. 

^  The  Rev.  Charlks  Frederick  Hoffman,  D.D.,  lyl^.D., 
D.C.L.,  President  of  the  Association  for  Promoting 
the  Interests  of  Church  Schools,  Colleges,  and  Semi- 
naries in  the  United  States  : 
At  your  kind  and  sympathetic  suggestion,  I  have  writ- 
ten some  reminiscences  of  my  life.      You  seemed  to  think 
some  of  the  incidents  of  that  life,  which  I  have  from  time 
r       to  time  related  to  you,  were  of  interest  and  might  do 
^     some  good.     Appreciating  your  judgment  and  opinion, 
I   have    endeavored    to   make   this   sketch   of   my   life, 
neither  sparing  my  faults  nor  magnifying  my  virtues,  but 
have  tried  to  show  how  the  Divine  I^ove  and  Hand  have 
led  me  all  these  years.     I  have  brought  out  how  all  one's 
life  is  often  turned  by  some  incident  which,  perhaps,  at 
the  time,  seemed  trifling,  but  was  fraught  with  marked 
results. 

I  ask  the  favor  to  inscribe  these  pages  to  your  honored 
self,  wishing  that  the  record  of  my  life  were  more  worthy 
of  your  acceptance.  But  you  will  receive  it,  I  trust,  as  a 
small  token  of  the  warm  attachment  I  have  for  you. 

With  my  love,  I  am 
Yours, 

A.  TooMER  Porter. 

The  above  dedication  was  written  before  the  decease  of 
my  lamented  friend ;  I  now  therefore  gratefully  dedicate 
my  autobiography  to  his  memory. 

A.  T.  P. 


Ul 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — The  Porter  Pedigree i 

My  pedigree — Jolui  Porter  of  England,  a?id  his 
desce?ida7its — My  gra7idfather  and  his  estate — Cotton 
and  potatoes,  an  incident  of  boyish  travel — Ge7i- 
eral  Waddy  Thoinpso7i — Fivm  Geo}getow7i  to  New 
Have7i,  Conn. —  Yale  stnde7its — Retnr7i  to  George- 
town— A  stra7ige  p7'ese7itime7it  coj7ies  true — My 
sister  Charlotte's  fate — My  7nother  asserts  her 
authority — I  suffer  fro}7i  bad  teachi7ig. 

II. — Religious  Beginnings     .        .        .        .        .11 

I  visit  77iy  father' s  grave  a7id  vow  to  follow  his  good 
exajnple — My  life  is  saved  by  a  7iegro — My  brother's 
death — I  seek  co7nfort  i7i  the  Bible  for  my  97iother's 
absence — The  good  begi7ining  of  a  life-lo7ig  habit — 
/  a7n  catechised  by  Bishop  Gadsden  in  my  four- 
tee7ith  year  a7id  a77i  confirmed. 

III. — First  School  Experience     .        .        .        .18 

Threatened  disaster  averted — Mr.  Bla7ik's  school — 
/  leave  it  shattered  i7i  health — Cotmtry  leisure 
restores  77ie — Good  i7ifluences — /  deter7ni7ie  to  be- 
come a  co77i77iU7iicant. 


,^' 


VI  Contents. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

IV.— x\  Wise  Schooi.maste:r 28 

I  go  to  Mount  Zion  College — Happy  and  profitable 
days  U7ider  a  wise  schoobnaster — Turkey  stealing 
— My  success  as  an  actor — I  forswear  gamblifig — 
My  opinion  and  practice  with  regard  to  lotteries  a7id 
raffles — Boyish  trajiks — The  power  of  cojifidence. 

V. — First  I^ovk  and  its  Consequkncks         .        .    42 

How  1 7nade  good  use  of  my  time — First  love — 
The  course  never  runs  smooth — I  eiiter  7ipon  a 
business  career —  Work  without  pay — My  first  cofn- 
munion — /  rebuke  ribaldry — /  re?tew  my  suit  and 
am  rebuffed — A  snake  in  the  grass — /  show  my- 
self a  member  of  the  Church  militant — The  perils 
of  conviviality — The  horrors  of  a  slave  sale. 

VI. — My  Lifk  as  a  Southern  Planter    .   .  59 

A  question  of  Georgia7i  civilizatio7i — /  engage  in 
a  dispute  where  bloodshed  is  just  averted — /  7'etire 
from  busi7iess — The  life  of  a  Souther7i  pla7iter — 
Adva7itages  of  a  busiriess  t7^ai7ii7ig — Look  7iot 
tLpon  the  wine — A  7iegro  hypocrite — The  slaves^ 
view  of  77iarital  resp07isibility. 

VII. — End  of  My  Plantation  Life       .        .        .70 

The  institution  of  slavery — Its  missio7iary  results — 
An  inherited  respo7isibility — The  good  side  of  the 
Af7'ica7i — E77ia7icipatio7i — /  begi7i  to  feel  that  I  had 
f7iissed  7ny  vocatio7i — /  determi7ie  to  ejiter  the  7)iin- 
istjy — My  frie7ids  e7icourage  77ie — A  tiine  of  study 
— The  episcopal  exa77ii7iatio7i — The  e7id  of  pla7ita- 
tion  life  for  77ie — A  paiiiful  07^deal. 


Contents,  vii 


PAGK 
CHAPTER 

VIII. — A  Plantation  Rkctor 8i 

/  begin  ?ny  theological  studies — The  Rev.  Alex. 
Gleymie—The  plantatio7i  rector— I  become  a  lay- 
reader — /  successfully  pass  a  cano7iical  exa7ni7ia- 
lioyi — In  the  meantime  I  meet  my  fate  on  the  trip 
to  Georgetown — Love  and  marriage— My  mission- 
ary zeal  is  severely  tested— My  weddiyig  trip. 

IX.— Brighter  Prospects  in  My  Work  .  .  88 
The  Episcopal  fund  of  South  Carolina — A  recal- 
citrant Standing  Committee  causes  me  to  store  my 
carpets — /  am  appoiiited  as  lay-reader  to  a  strug- 
gling missio7i — A  beggarly  upper  rooyn — Mean- 
while I  am  77iade  a  happy  father— Brighter  pros- 
pects for  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Co7nmu7iion  — 
The  a7igel  of  77iy  life's  work—l7icide7it  in  my 
parochial  success. 

X.— A  Hard  Apprenticeship  .  .  .  .96 
I  take  per77ia7ie7it  abode  with  my  family  i7i  Charles- 
ton— Am  ordai7ied  deacon  ayid  pi^each  my  first  ser- 
mon— /  begin  to  think  of  buildi7ig  a  church — My 
appeal  for  help  offends  so7ne  conservatives — The 
liberality  of  others — The  ''a77ie7ide  ho7iorable'' — 
Yellow  fever,  a7id  77iy  experience  of  it. 

XI.— Hard  Work  and  Foreign  Travel  .  .  104 
/  am  ordained  p7nest — A  seco7id  son  is  born  to  me — 
The  Chufrh  of  the  Holy  Co7nmunion  fi7iished  ayid 
consec7'ated—The  growth  of  the  work — My  wife's 
health  begi7is  to  fail — Our  voyage  to  Europe — / 
foimd  a  successful  hidustrial  School — Its  history 
a7id  work — /  beco77ie  a7i  ar77iy  co7itractor — A  laugh- 
able incident. 


vili  Cojitents, 


CHAPTER  PAGE  | 

XII. — Secession  Thunder- Clouds         .        .        .112  i 

Good  works  of  Mr.  Wag7ier  and  Mr.  Trenholm —  \ 

I  experience  the  power  of  faithful  prayer — Secession  \ 

in  the  air — /witness  the  signing  of  the  07'dinance  oj  \ 

secessio7i,  but  do  not  sign  it — The  ratification  mass-  ; 

meeting  —  The  fi7'i7ig  of  Fort  Moultrie — Capture  by  \ 

secessio7iists  of  U7iited  States  arse7ial  i7i  Charleston.  ; 


XIII. — War  in  Earnest 121  ' 

My  chaplai7icy  i7i  the  lVashi7tgto7i  Light  hifantry  \ 

—  The   delusio7i  of  secessio7iists   as   to  peace — Fo7't  \ 

Sumter  is  fired  07i — The  sur7'e7ider  of  Major  A71-  \ 

de7'S07i — So77ie  difficulties  of  recruiti7ig — Some  yo2ing  ^ 

Co7federate  heroes — Bull  Ru7i.  \ 

XIV. — My  War  Experiences         .        .        .        .130 

The  plague  of  77ieasles  i7i  the  Confederate  ca77ip —  i 

I  go  to  the  fro7it — The  zvork  of  an  ar77iy  chaplai7i —  ■ 

A  grateful  "  Ya7ik'''' — Red  tape  a7id  ragged  U7ii-  \ 

fo7'77ts  —  * '  Co7ifederate    77iis77ianageme7it  ' '  —  The  \ 

Ch7'istia7i    Ge7ieral — Search  for  a   dead  soldier —  ^ 

Pipes  a7id piety.  \ 

XV.— The  Bloody  "  Cul-de-Sac  "         .        .        .  138  i 

Te7it  worship —  The  Federals  171  the  bloody  *  *  cul-de-  j 

sac''^ — /  am   tuider  fire — Sce7ies  of  slaughter — A  "\ 
stra7ige  i7icide7it — Church  pla7is  at  Charlesto7i — A 

fi7ia7icial  blu7ider,  for  which  I  a77i  sca7'cely  accoinit-  j 

able — What  77iight  have  bee7i  had  I  followed  my  \ 
busi7iess  i7istincts. 


XVI. — Some  of  the  Horrors  of  War  .        .        .  146 

The  shelli7ig  of  Charlesto7i — /  a77t  in  the  thick  of  it 
— A  work  of  77iercy — "  Ma77i77ta,  I  saw  him  die  !  " 
—  Yellow  fever —  The  death  of  7ny  first  born — * '  O 


\ 


Contents.  ix 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

Lord,  save  Thy  people,  arid  bless  Thine  heritage'' — 
Grief  and  patience. 

XVII. —Burning  of  Columbia        .        .        .        .152 
No7i-combatants  driven  from  Charleston — My  lost 
sermons — Adventures  of  some  port  wi7ie — Burning 
of  Columbia — Drimkenness  and  robbery  enter  with 
Ge7ieral  Sherman — A  panic- strickeji  people, 

XVIII. — Lieutenant  McQueen  .  .  .  .163 
We  leave  our  home  ayidflee  for  refuge — /  confront 
General  Sher7nan — At  my  expostulatio7i  he  stops 
pillage  a7id  debauchery — /  am  robbed  of  my  shawl 
— Restitutio7i  a7id  repe7itance — A  7ioble  Yankee — 
My  first  fiery  meeting  with  Lieutena7it  McQueen 
— /  apologize. 

XIX.— McQueen's  Escape 172 

We  bid  farewell  to  Lieutena7it  McQueen— I  provide 
hi77i  with  a  letter  which  afterwards  saves  hi7n  from 
Southern  bullets— Hear i7ig  of  his  further  peril  I 
hurry  to  his  assista7ice — He  is  fi7ially  restored  to  the 
ar77iy  of  Ge7ieral  Sher77ian — Story  of  my  adve7itures. 

XX.  —The  Last  Chapter  of  the  War         .        .181 

A  touclmig  story  of  General  fohnstone  —  The  last 
scenes  of  the  war— My  blank  despair— My  wife's 
distress  over  7}iy  dejectio7i — /  read  the  provide7itial 
worki7ig  of  God  i7i  history — Light  th7vugh  the 
clouds — I  resolve  to  do  my  best  for  ho77ie  andcou7itry. 

XXI.— Home  Again 191 

/  reticrn  home—  The  darkey  in  uniform  yields  to 
a  bhiff—The  i7iiquities  of  the  Freedmen's  Biireau 
— ''Give    us    this    day  our  daily   bread"— The 


X  Contents, 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

prayet  is  answered — Co7ifiscation  or  robbery  ? — 
The  good  George  Shrewsbury — /  open  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Communion  once  more — My  sermon  on 
' '  Set  your  house  i7i  order, ' '  a7td  how  it  was  re- 
ceived. 

XXII. — A  Destitute  Bishop 201 

/  make  a  business  venture  which  is  highly  success- 
ful— My  home  is  again  furnished — /  dissipate  the 
despair  of  Bishop  Davis,  a7id  see  that  his  wants 
are  provided  for — ""Porter,  have  yozi  Aladdin's 
lampf' 

XXIII. — Warm  Northern  Friends      .        .        .  209 
Bishop  Davis  at  the  Diocesa?i  Conve7itio7i  of  1866 

—  Cluirches  a7id  parochial  schools  for  the  colo7'ed 
people — Good  7'esolutio7is  are  7io  tise  without  practical 
perfor7na7icc — /  take  steps  towaj'd  the  carrying  out 
of  certai7i  good  resolutio7is  passed  by  the  co7iventio7i 

—  The  Bishop  sends  me  No?ih  to  collect  funds  for 
the  Theological  Semi7ia7y  a7id  colored  school — /  a77i 
ki7idly  received  i7i  New  York  by  Dr.  Twi7ig,  a7id 
i7i  Brookly7i  by  Dr.  Littlejolm — Mimifcence  of  Mr. 
A.  A.  Low. 

XXIV.— My  School 220 

/  plead  the  cause  of  South  CaroWia  before  the 
Ge7ieral  Board  of  Missio7is,  New  York — **  The 
most  eloque7it  appeal  ever  prese7ited  to  the  Boa?'d  ' ' — 
/  a7n  ve7y  successful — /  ope7i  in  Charleston  a  school 
for  colored  children — Preside7it  fohnso7i  assists  me 
a7id  I  obtai7i  the  Mari7ie  Hospital  for  my  school. 

XXV. — A  Kind  President 226 

How  I  obtai7ied  Mr.  Tre7ihol77i' s  pardo7i 


Conte7its.  XI 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVI.— Educational  Needs  of  the  South  .  236 
The  ravages  of  the  war  in  Southern  States  affected 
the  catise  of  educatio7i — This  was  especially  the  case 
among  the  upper  classes — My  work  was  to  remedy 
this  co?idition  of  things — I  open  a  day  school  for  4.2s 
boys  and  125  girls — My  boarding  school  accepts  33 
boys — /  advise  my  boarders  how  they  should  behave 
— A  good  remedy  for  coarseness  and  obscenity — Mr. 
Wilkins  Gletin  of  Baltimore  assists  me. 

XXVII.— "  The  Lord's  Box  "  .  .  .  .243 
My  method  of  appealing  to  the  ho7ior  of  boys — 
A71  incideyit  testifying  to  its  success — * '  The  Lord' s 
box''—fewels  amoiig  the  lowly — My  public  work 
outside  of  the  school— My  ''Romish''  tendeiicies — 
A  very  practical  rebuke. 

XXVIII. — The  Work  of  My  Life  is  Recognized 

AND  Helped 253 

/  enlarge  the  home — New  and  old  friends  still  help 
me — /  find  a  friend  of  my  childhood  in  Governor 
Ligon — ''Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  wateis'' — A 
re7niniscence  of  my  7nother'  s  New  Haven  days — Mr. 
Charles  O'  Co7inor  recog7iizes  the  state S7nanlike  char- 
acter of  my  work —  The  class  of  the  refi7ied  and  edu- 
cated was  to  be  saved  to  the  South  through  my  efforts 
— Hence  the  support  of  outsiders. 

XXIX.— Calumny  and  Rebuff  Meet  Me  .  .  260 
A  calu77iny  stops  the  flow  of  be7iefice7ice  in  Balti- 
more—  The  vicissitudes  of  my  fiyiancial  life — Re- 
flections 071  God' s  providential  care— I  am  roughly 
rebuffed  by  afrie7id  of  Dr.  Muhlenberg — /  give 
him  a  sharp  lecture — He  proves  his  repe7itance  by 
a  small  gift. 


xil  Contents. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXX. — ScHOoiv  AND  Church  Flourish         .        .  270 

The  good  health  of  the  school — I  escape  being  7nade 
Bishop  of  Africa  —I find  the  needs  of  the  work  viet 
by  many  provide7itial  i7iterpositions — The  Church 
of  the  Holy  Co^nniunion  is  at  length  enlarged  and 
beautified— I  intjvduce  a  surpiiced  choir — Not  an 
innovatioji,  but  vterely  a  revival  of  a  past  practice 
in  Charleston. 

XXXI. — Unexpected  Help  in  Trouble       .        .  280 

Our  school  feels  the  paiiic  of  iSyj — ^'Master, 
carest  Thou  not  that  we  perish  f  " — An  U7ifecling 
ba7ik  preside7it  who  finds  i7i  77ie  his  match — My 
congregatio7i  sympathize  and  assist — Seven  di-ays 
full  of  groceries  unexpectedly  drive  into  77ty  yard — 
A71  U7ijust  appropriatio7i  to  the  Ro77ian  Catholic 
orphanage  beco77ies  the  occasio7i  of  assista7ice  for  7ne. 

XXXil. — Special  Providence       .        .      '  .        .  290 
God' s  special p}vvide7ice  is  appare7it  i7i  the  way  my 
work  was  suppO}'ted —  The  i7icide7its  of  this  chapter 
will  appeal  to  the  most  dow7icast  or  disheartened. 

XXXIII. — Service  with  the  Angels  .  .  .  297 
/  am  inopportunely  seized  with  sudde7i  sickness — 
A  time  of  rest  in  which  I  hold  service  with  the 
angels — My  co7ifidence  in  God  is  justified  by  con- 
valescence— Myfi7ia7icial  troubles — Frie7idly  help  — 
The  far-reaching  results  of  77iy  pamphlet. 

XXXIV.— More  Travels  Abroad         .        .        .  307 
The  ad)7tission   of  colored  pa7'ishes  into  the  Dio- 
cesan Conve7itio7i — A  bur7iing  question^  on  which 
I  espouse  the  cause  of  the  blacks — A  tinal  co7}ipro- 


Co7itents.  xiii 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

mise — /  succu7nb  to  the  toils  and  anxieties  of  my 
work — /  seek  for  reviewed  health  i?i  a  voyage  to 
E7igland — Thence  I  travel  over  the  continent  of 
Europe — The  kindness  of  English  friends. 

XXXV. — Generous  Hei^pers         .        .        .        .318 
Account  of  my  warm  reception  in  England. 

XXXVI. — A  Church  for  Colored  People  .        .  330 
The  school  is  full — The  colored  question  in    the 
Church — The  Bishop  piles  a7iother  burden  07i  my 
willi7ig  shoulders — How  I  we7it  to  work  to  build  up 
St.  Mark  s — I  found  the  House  of  Rest. 

XXXVII. — I  Apply  FOR  THE  Arsenal  .        .        .  340 

Vague  thoughts  of  obtai7iing  the  arse7ial  buildings 

for  the  Institute — I  am  well  supported  by  frie7ids  in 

my  application — General  Sherman   e7idorses  it — 

Help  in  England  for  my  school. 

XXXVIII. — Our  New  Home  in  the  Arsenal  .  351 
My  efforts  to  obtain  the  Charleston  arse7ial  as  a 
home  for  my  school— Obstructions  and  oppositions 
—  The  military  coTnmittee  treats  me  ge7ierously — 
The  kindness  of  Preside7it  Hayes — The  arsenal  is 
duly  transferred  to  me — Newspaper  reflections  on 
the  tra7isfer —  Warm  support  of  my  Philadelphia 
friends. 

XXXIX. — School  Opens  in  the  Arsenal   .        .  363 
Ceremonies  attending  the  opening  of  the  arsenal 
as  our  new  hoTne — Points  of  my  parochial  work — 
Mr.  E.  R.  Mudge  of  Boston — His  soldier  son — 
Progress  of  our  school. 


xlv  Contents. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

Xly, — Important  Additions  to  Our  Curriculum,  374 

Death  ainongst  my  teachers — /  am  enabled  to 
build  a  gymnasiurn — /  make  a7i  important  addi- 
tion to  the  ciirriculu77i  in  the  shape  of  linear  draw- 
hig  fo7  machine  shops —  The  powder  magazine  is 
flooded  for  a  reason  —  Typewriting  a7id  stenog- 
raphy added  to  our  course — The  beginning  of  an 
e?idowme?it. 

XIvI. — Thk  Porter  Academy         ....  382 

' '  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee  ' ' — Ho7ior  among 
boys  —  l7nprove7ne7its  in  the  buildi7ig  —-  General 
Lee' s  most  dangerous  antagonist —A  risky  bridge 
— /  see  McQuee7i  at  his  ho7ne — Death  of  a  wise 
and  good  physician — A  st7'a7ige  dream —  The  In- 
stitute beco77ies  the  Po7ier  Acade77iy — Friends  in 
need. 

Xlyll. — The  Charleston  Earthquake         .        .  391 
/  i7it7'oduce  a  departme7it  of  ca7penteri7ig  into  the 
Institute  —  The    Charlesto7i  earthquake  —  Stra7ige 
a7id    terrible    sce7ies —  The  ludicrous  side  of  the 
situatio7i. 

XLIII. — KOTHEN 400 

Travels  in  the  East 

XI/IV. — Modern  Jerusalem  in  Holy  Week        .  407 

/  visit  the  far  East — Palestine,  Egypt,  Damascus, 
all  pass  before  me — My  emotions  at  Jerusalem  in 
Holy  Week — /  retur7i  safe  hoTne. 

XlyV. — End  of  a  Beautiful  Life  ....  424 

I  suffer  a  sad  bereavcTnent  in  the  death  of  my  wife 
— Her  great  power  in  helping  and  g2iidi7ig  my 
life's  work — Su7nmary  of  soTue years'  toil. 


Contents.  xv 


CH  AFTER  PAGE 

XIrVI.— Thk  Late  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  Frederick 

Hoffman 430 

The  inauguration   of  McKinley — /  meet  an  old 
friend  at   Washington — Death  of  my  dear  friend 
and  benefactor,   the  Rev.  Charles  Frederick  Hoff- 
man— His  life  and  character^  and  an  account  of 
his  obsequies. 

XLVII. — Testimonies  to  My  Life's  Work  .  .  439 
This  chapter  contains  letters  from  ex-Govei'nor 
Chamberlain  and  Mr.  Charles  Cowley,  testifying 
to  the  value  of  my  life's  work — /  receive  also  a 
kind  note  containifig  an  invitatiori  from  HIcQueen 
— I  hear  also  from  his  daughter. 

XLVIII.— The  Academy's  Thirty- First  Year    .  445 

Twenty-five  of  our  cadets  graduated— I  am  stricken 
with  sickness — A  parish  rectorship  of  forty -four 
years  is  closed —  This  book  intended  to  m^agnify  the 
grace  of  God — Farewell. 

Appendix  A 449 

Appendix  B 453 

Appendix  C 454 

Appendix  D 455 

Appendix  H 460 

Appendix  F 461 

Appendix  G .461 

Appendix  H 462 


II.LUSTRATIONS 


A.  TooMKR  Porter 


A.  TooMER  Porter,  ^tat  19 


PAGE 

Frontispiece 
.       58 


Church  of  the  Holy  Communion,  Charleston.    274 

Machine    Shop    of    the   Porter   Military 

Academy 374 

Manual    Department,    Porter    Military 

Academy 382 


I' 


LED  ON! 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  PORTER  PEDIGREE 

My  pedigree— John  Porter  of  England,  aiid  his  descendants 
— My  grandfather  aiid  his  estate — Cotto7i  and  potatoes, 
an  i7icide7it  of  boyish  travel — General  Waddy  Thompson 
— FroTn  Georgetown  to  New  Haven,  Conn. —  Yale  students 
— Return  to  Georgetown — A  strange  presentiment  comes 
true — My  sister  Charlotte's  fate — My  7nother  asserts  her 
authority — /  suffer  f7V77t  bad  teachi7ig. 

IN  compliance  with  the  frequent  suggestion  of  my  friend, 
the  late  Rev.  Charles  Frederick  Hoffman,  D.D., 
I^L.D.,  D.C.L.,  of  New  York,  I  began,  Oct.  5,1896,  to  write 
some  reminiscences  of  my  life.  All  of  the  older  members  of 
my  family  having  died  while  I  was  very  young,  my  knowl- 
edge of  my  progenitors  I  derived  from  my  mother,  and 
from  an  aged  grand-aunt  on  my  mother's  side.  The  fol- 
lowing is  my  family  tree,  as  far  as  known  : — 

My  grandfather,  John  Porter,  was  born  in  1759,  in 
Connecticut,  and  was  descended  from  John  Porter  of 
England,  the  founder  of  the  American  family,  who  settled 


Led  On  ! 


in  Dorchester,  Massachusetts,  some  time  in  the  seven- 
teenth century.  To  him  is  to  be  traced  the  ancestry  of  A. 
A.  Ivow,  Bishop  Huntington,  of  Western  New  York,  and 
other  men  of  note. 

When  quite  a  youth,  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  old,  my 
grandfather,  with  two  brothers,  took  horse  and  travelled 
South.  There  is  a  tradition,  for  which  I  cannot  vouch, 
that  on  their  journey  the  three  young  men  came  across  the 
persons  who  had  begun  the  Dismal  Swamp  Canal.  My 
grandfather,  after  watching  the  methods  of  the  construc- 
tors, remarked  that  it  could  not  be  dug  in  that  way.  He 
was  approached  to  know  if  he  had  a  better  plan  to  sug- 
gest. An  agreement  was  entered  into,  and  he  undertook 
the  work.  He  remained  long  enough  to  make  twenty 
thousand  dollars.  He  then  resumed  his  journey  South, 
and  settled  in  Georgetown  District,  South  Carolina.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  he  had  sufficient  money  when  he  reached 
Georgetown  to  purchase  a  quantity  of  land,  and  began 
the  cultivation  of  indigo.  He  continued  at  this  until  rice 
was  introduced,  and  he  then  undertook  the  cultivation  of 
rice.  He  purchased  two  plantations  on  Sampit  River  and 
was  successful,  amassing  what  was  a  fortune  in  those  days. 
He  died  in  April,  1829,  aged  seventy,  just  six  months  after 
the  death  of  my  father.  He  left,  by  will,  his  estate  to  my 
brother,  three  sisters,  and  myself;  my  father  having  be- 
queathed his  estate  to  my  mother  at  the  request  of  my 
grandfather,  who  had  told  my  father  that  he  would  pro- 
vide for  his  children.  The  estate  consisted  of  rice  planta- 
tions and  negro  slaves,  some  of  whom  he  purchased  from 
slave-ships,  which  were  owned  in  Newport,  Rhode  Island. 
In  1849,  I  came  into  possession  of  five  of  these  Africans, 
then  very  old.  They  had  been,  in  fact,  supported  for  many 
years  on  the  plantation  without  earning  a  dollar.  The 
five  were  tattooed,  and  I  never  could  understand  their 
language,  and  could  only  communicate  with  them  through 


The  Porter  Pedigree.  3 

some  of  their  race  who  had  become  familiar  with  their 
speech.  They  were  all  dead  by  the  year  1851,  The  bill 
of  sale  of  some  of  these  people  was  in  my  possession,  and 
was  lost  with  other  valuable  papers  at  the  burning  of 
Columbia  by  General  Sherman's  army,  in  1865.  Some 
time  in  1866,  I  told  Mr.  Peter  Cooper  of  New  York  of  these 
facts,  and  suggested  that  our  Northern  friends  should  not 
hold  up  their  hands  in  holy  horror  on  the  slavery  question. 
If  we  got  the  slaves  those  who  owned  the  ships  received 
the  money  and  incurred  by  far  the  least  trouble  in  the 
matter. 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  often  heard  that  my  grandfather 
was  a  Tory,  and  this  charge  was  a  source  of  great  annoy- 
ance to  me.  For  those  days  were  not  so  far  from  the 
Revolutionary  War  that  the  hatred  of  England  had  all 
passed  away.  As,  however,  grandfather  was  only  seven- 
teen years  old  in  1776,  he  could  not  have  been  a  very 
dangerous  Tory,  though  I  remember  one  of  the  stories 
told  about  him  was  that  he  had  set  fire  to  Georgetown  ; 
and  a  certain  corner  where  a  house  belonging  to  one  of 
the  Alstons  had  been  burned,  was  tauntingly  pointed  out 
to  me  as  the  house  he  had  fired.  I  was  too  young  then 
to  put  two  and  two  together.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  that 
as  he  was  then  only  a  bo}^  there  could  have  been  no  truth 
in  these  fables.  Nevertheless,  I  had  many  a  good  cry 
over  my  grandfather's  supposed  iniquity.  Many  good 
deeds  and  charitable  acts  that  the  old  gentleman  did  were 
kept  in  memory  by  the  family.  One  of  these  deeds  was  the 
education  of  a  deserving  lad  named  Thomas  House  Taylor, 
who  afterwards  became  the  distinguished  Reverend  Doctor 
Taylor,  Rector  of  Grace  Church,  New  York,  who  was  my 
godfather. 

My  father,  John  Porter,  was  born  in  1795.  He  gradu- 
ated with  distinction  from  the  South  Carolina  College  and 
studied  law.     On  the  i6th  of  December,  18 19,  he  married 


4  Led  On! 

Esther  Ann  Toomer,  daughter  of  Anthony  Toomer,  and 
from  them  were  born  two  sons  and  three  daughters — 
Charlotte,  who  died  February  15,  1835  ;  John,  who  died 
September  9,  1841 ;  EHza  Cheesborough,  who  married  Dr. 
E.  B.  Brown,  and  afterwards  Robert  E.  Fraser,  and  died 
in  1861  ;  Hannah,  who  married  Dr.  John  F.  Lessesne ; 
and  myself,  whom  God  has  spared  to  outlive  them 
all.  I  was  only  nine  months  old  when  my  father  died. 
His  death  occurred  on  October  25,  1828,  at  the  early  age 
of  thirty-three  years.  My  father  was  a  man  of  very 
marked  character.  He  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
Legislature  of  South  Carolina,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one, 
and  served  for  several  years.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
Episcopal  Diocesan  Convention  at  the  time  of  his  death. 

Fourteen  years  after  my  father's  death,  while  travelling 
to  Columbia  by  the  railroad,  we  came  to  the  section  of 
country  where  cotton  is  grown,  and  I  mistook  the  cotton 
for  fields  of  Irish  potatoes.  Being  surprised  at  the  extent 
of  the  planting,  I  observed  that  someone  seemed  to  be- 
lieve in  potatoes.  I  was  then  a  boy  in  my  fifteenth  year. 
A  gentleman  on  the  seat  before  me  turned  and  said  : 

"  My  3^oung  friend,  where  were  you  brought  up  ?  " 

Perceiving  ni}^  mistake,  I  replied,  ' '  Had  you,  sir,  never 
seen  a  rice  field,  and  mistook  the  first  you  ever  saw  for 
oats,  I  should  correct  your  error.  I  see  now  that  this  is 
cotton,  not  Irish  potatoes." 

' '  May  I  ask  your  name  ?  ' ' 

'  Certainly  ;  my  name  is  Anthon}^  Toomer  Porter.'* 

■ '  And  where  is  your  home  ?  "  he  asked. 

*  Georgetown,  South  Carolina." 

*  Are  you  any  relation  to  Col.  John  Porter,  who  died  in 
1828?" 

*'  His  son,  sir,"  I  replied. 

Rising  from  his  seat,  and  taking  off  his  hat,  he  extended 
his  hand,  saying,  "  I  am  Gen.  Waddy  Thompson"  [at 
one  time  Minister  to  Mexico]  '  *  let  me  take  the  hand  of  the 


The  Porter  Pedigree.  5 

son  of  John  Porter.  To  your  father  I  am  indebted  more 
than  to  any  other  man  ;  we  were  in  the  South  Carolina 
College  together,  and  to  his  interposition  and  influence  I 
owe  all  I  have  ever  been." 

He  then  told  me  much  of  my  father's  college  life,  and 
of  the  influence  he  exercised  in  college.  He  was  the 
referee  and  umpire  in  every  dispute  and  difi&culty,  and 
the  beloved  of  every  student  and  professor. 

This  conversation  and  others  like  it,  which  I  had  with 
many  persons,  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  make- 
up of  my  life. 

My  ancestors  on  my  mother's  side  came  from  Wales  and 
from  England.  Like  my  paternal  grandfather,  my  mother's 
grandfather  had  come  South,  from  New  England  ;  his 
forefathers  having  settled  in  Massachusetts  some  time  in 
the  seventeenth  century.  My  great-grandfather,  Anthony 
Toomer,  migrated  with  two  brothers  when  quite  young. 
One  settled  in  North  Carolina,  and  became  a  distinguished 
jurist.  From  him  are  descended  some  of  the  chief  families 
of  that  State.  Another  branch  went  to  Georgia,  or  Ala- 
bama. Of  that  branch  I  have  no  knowledge.  In  1767, 
my  great-grandfather  married  Ann  Warham,  who  was  a 
lineal  descendant  of  William  Warham,  the  brother  of 
Archbishop  Warham,  of  Canterbury.  While  serving  as 
an  ofiicer  in  the  Continental  army  of  the  Revolution,  he 
was  captured  after  the  surrender  of  Charleston  on  the  12th 
of  May,  1780,  and  with  other  prominent  citizens  was  sent 
to  St.  Augustine.  There,  for  some  cause,  he  with  others 
was  imprisoned  in  one  of  the  vessels,  and  after  much  suffer- 
ing was  sent  to  Philadelphia,  and  not  exchanged  or  re- 
leased until  the  war  was  over.  A  daughter  was  born  to 
him  on  the  day  of  his  capture,  but  she  was  four  years  old 
before  he  ever  saw  her.  From  him  are  descended  a  num- 
ber of  families,  residing  principally  in  Charleston.  My 
maternal  grandfather  married  Charlotte  Cheesborough, 


Led  On! 


whose  ancestor  was  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. They  had  several  children,  but  my  mother  and 
Mrs.  Mary  Ford  alone  married  and  left  children. 

I  was  born  on  the  31st  of  January,  1828,  in  Georgetown, 
South  Carolina,  and  was  baptized  by  Rev.  P.  T.  Keith, 
November  16,  1828.  My  mother  had  been  educated  in 
Elizabeth,  New  Jersey,  and  retained  to  her  death  a  great 
attachment  for  the  North  and  her  Northern  friends. 
Left  a  widow  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  with  five  children, 
the  oldest  eight  5^ears,  and  the  youngest  nine  months, 
with  a  handsome  estate  left  to  her  by  my  father,  she  de- 
termined, four  years  after  my  father's  death,  to  take  her 
children  to  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  where  she  believed 
she  could  educate  them  to  greater  advantage. 

My  mother  was  considered  a  strikingly  handsome  wo- 
man, and  retained  her  beauty  to  over  her  seventieth  year. 
She  was  highly  educated,  and  of  fascinating  manners, 
with  brilliant  conversational  powers.  With  these  attrac- 
tions, and  the  reputation  of  being  a  rich  Southern  widow, 
of  course  she  had  many  suitors.  But  my  father's  last 
words  to  her  were,  "  Train  our  children  as  you  know  I 
would  have  done, ' '  and  she  determined  to  live  for  them. 

There  were  a  number  of  Southern  students  at  Yale 
College,  and  her  home  was  their  constant  resort.  Being 
very  young,  I  remember  very  little  of  our  sojourn  there. 
But  I  recollect  that  several  of  the  students  kept  riding 
horses,  and  would  put  a  pillow  in  front  and  ride  me  about, 
a  curly-headed  imp.  There  was  a  young  Frenchman  who 
was  very  fond  of  me,  but  he  often  made  use  of  language 
not  fitted  for  a  Sunday-school.  One  day  I  said  to  him, 
"  If  you  don't  stop  using  those  bad  words,  do  you  know 
where  you  will  go  when  you  die  ?  ' ' 

"  Where  will  I  go  ?  "  he  said. 

"  To  a  place  too  bad  for  me  to  tell  you,"  was  my  reply. 

My  childish  rebuke  had  a  wonderful  effect  upon  him, 


The  Porter  Pedigree.  7 

for  he  was  never  heard  to  utter  an  oath  afterwards.  I  had 
another  friend,  Mr.  Ligon.  He  was  afterwards  Governor 
of  Maryland.  This  gentleman's  name  will  appear  later 
on  in  my  story. 

Eventually  my  mother  returned  South.  I  have  a  dim 
recollection  of  our  voyage  home  in  a  sailing  vessel,  and  our 
arrival  in  Georgetown.  I  remember  how  much  alarmed  I 
was  at  the  appearance  of  the  black  people  who  came  around 
us.  I  had  a  white  nurse,  an  Irish  woman,  who  had  gone 
with  us  to  New  Haven  and  returned,  and  remained  until 
I  was  nine  years  old.  My  father  had  left  his  town  resi- 
dence to  my  mother,  with  his  plantation  and  some  eighty 
slaves.  After  taking  up  her  residence  in  Georgetown,  my 
mother  retained  her  wish  that  her  children  should  be  edu- 
cated in  the  North,  and  in  1836  she  sent  my  brother  John 
to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Chester  at  Morristown,  New  Jersey,  to 
school.  He  remained  there  some  years,  and  there  was  a 
remarkable  circumstance  connected  with  his  return.  Mr. 
Chester  wrote  mother  that  her  son  would  return  on  the 
steamer  Ho?ne,  to  sail  from  New  York.  This  was  a  pioneer 
steamer,  being  a  North  River  boat  which  had  been  cut  in 
two  and  lengthened.  From  a  dream,  or  a  presentiment, 
my  mother  became  possessed  with  the  idea  that  her  son 
had  better  not  come  home  in  that  boat,  and  she  wrote  at 
once  to  Mr.  Chester.  It  required  six  or  seven  days  then 
to  get  a  letter  to  New  Jersey,  and  John  had  been  sent  to 
New  York.  After  he  left,  Mr.  Chester  received  the  per- 
emptory letter.  He  hastened  to  New  York,  and  arrived 
at  the  steamer  after  the  planks  had  been  drawn  in,  and 
just  before  the  ropes  had  been  thrown  off.  He  managed 
to  get  to  the  captain,  and  told  him  to  put  John  Porter  on 
shore.  It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  he  succeeded,  but 
at  last  the  trunk  was  put  out,  the  passenger  came  on  shore, 
and  started  home  by  land.  The  Home  encountered  a  gale 
off  Hatteras,  and  quickly  went  to  pieces.     If  I  remember 


8  Led  On! 

rightly,  only  one  passenger,  a  French  milliner  of  Charles- 
ton, saved  herself  by  floating  ashore  on  a  sofa.  I  remem- 
ber the  agony  of  my  mother  ;  she  was  certain  her  son  was 
on  the  steamer.  She  had  not  heard  from  Mr.  Chester. 
The  same  storm  had  played  havoc  on  land  ;  all  communi- 
cation by  stage  had  been  interrupted.  The  first  informa- 
tion we  had,  was  from  brother  John's  arrival  home  on  one 
of  the  stage  horses.  The  stage  had  been  wrecked,  as  well 
as  the  steamer,  and  the  driver  had  cut  his  horses  loose  and 
mounted  his  passengers  on  them.  It  seems  but  as  yester- 
day. I  remember  my  brother's  forlorn  look  as  he  rode  up 
to  the  house,  and  my  mother's  rapturous  joy  as  she  recog- 
nized her  son  whom  she  had  given  up  as  lost. 

I  remember  one  other  circumstance  in  those  early  years, 
which  made  a  deep  impression  on  me. 

My  oldest  sister  Charlotte,  not  quite  fifteen  years  old, 
had  always  been  a  great  sufferer  from  headaches.  We 
were  spending  the  summer  of  1834  on  North  Island,  our 
summer  retreat  on  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  at  the  mouth  of 
Winyah  Bay.  My  sister  never  went  to  school  after  our 
return  from  New  Haven,  but  she  was  a  great  reader.  The 
last  book  she  read  was  The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii.  As  she 
finished  the  book,  she  remarked  to  my  mother,  *  *  I  will  be 
like  that  Wind  girl."  Mother,  to  divert  her,  ordered  the 
carriage  for  a  ride  on  the  beach.  Only  those  two  were  in 
the  carriage,  and  after  riding  some  time,  my  sister  asked 
mother  if  she  had  not  better  order  the  coachman  to  return, 
as  it  was  getting  dark.  "  Oh,  no,"  mother  said,  "  it  is 
still  quite  early,  the  sun  has  not  gone  down  yet."  Then 
my  sister  said,  "  If  it  is  not  night,  I  am  blind,  for  I  see 
nothing."  And  she  was  blind;  she  never  saw  again. 
She  Hved  until  February  15,  1835,  then  died.  It  was  the 
first  time  I  ever  saw  anyone  die.  But  the  peace,  the  joy, 
of  that  departing  spirit,  going,  as  she  said,  to  see  all  the 
beauties  of  heaven,  where  there  is  no  more  pain  ;  the  abso- 


The  Porter  Pedigree.  9 

lute  rapture  of  the  young  saint,  have  never  passed  from 
my  memory.     I  was  then  in  my  eighth  year. 

At  that  time  the  remaining  children,  save  my  brother 
John,  were  attending  the  school  of  a  maiden  lady,  Miss 
Betsey  Taylor,  who  was  very  frequently  a  visitor  at  our 
home.  My  mother  was  a  most  sensible  woman  who  did 
all  she  could  to  let  her  children  enjoy  their  young  life. 
We  had  a  room  to  play  in,  and  in  that  room  she  provided 
every  kind  of  game  that  she  could  procure — cards  and 
puzzles,  lotto  and  backgammon,  checkers  and  chess,  pic- 
ture books,  and  dancing  ropes,  dominoes,  and  games  too 
numerous  to  mention.  Friday  afternoon  and  evening,  and 
Saturday,  we  had  the  privilege  of  having  as  many  children 
friends  as  we  washed,  and  a  rollicking  good  time  we  had, 
joyous  without  being  boisterous  ;  still  it  certainly  was  not 
a  silent  crowd. 

One  evening  Miss  Taylor  was  spending  the  time  at  our 
house,  and  being  somewhat  annoyed  at  the  romping  going 
on  in  the  children's  room,  she  left  the  sitting  room  for 
ours,  and  bringing  her  school-room  discipline  into  exer- 
cise, very  peremptorily  ordered  us  to  bed,  saying  she  did 
not  propose  to  be  annoyed  by  the  noise  of  children.  My 
mother  perceived  the  sudden  cessation  of  laughter,  and 
the  solemn  silence  which  followed,  for  we  all  stood  in 
mortal  dread  of  the  spinster.  She  quickly  followed  Miss 
Taylor,  and  heard  her  giving  us  her  orders.  Mother  was  a 
woman  of  considerable  positiveness  herself,  and  having 
the  sole  control  and  rearing  of  her  children,  it  was  not 
safe  to  intrude  upon  her  prerogatives.  I  remember  the 
quiet  dignity  of  her  manner  on  that  occasion.  She  was 
severely  polite  as  she  begged  pardon  of  Miss  Taylor,  and 
told  us  to  resume  our  play,  and  to  go  to  bed  when  she 
gave  the  direction.  Then  turning  to  Miss  Taylor,  she 
said. 

' '  In  your  school-room  my  children  are  under  your  direc- 


lo  Led  On  ! 


tion  ;  in  my  house,  they  are  under  mine.  Your  action  is 
a  reflection  upon  the  manners  of  my  children.  They  are 
never  allowed  to  disturb  my  guests,  and  had  it  been  neces- 
sary I  would  have  anticipated  you,  by  stopping  their 
hilarity  ;  but  with  their  innocent  enjoyment  in  my  own 
house,  I  permit  no  interference  of  any  kind." 

It  was  many  years  ago,  but  I  recall  the  rage  into  which 
the  school  mistress  worked  herself.  She  turned  on  mother, 
who  was  many  years  her  junior,  and  seemed  to  think  she 
was  one  of  her  pupils.  Mother  calmly  stood  it  a  little 
while,  when,  placing  herself  between  the  children  and  the 
open  door,  she  pointed  to  it,  and  suggested  it  was  about 
time  for  both  of  them  to  retire.  Miss  Taylor  gathered  up 
her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  it  was  a  very  long  time  before 
she  crossed  our  threshold  again. 

This  incident  made  a  change  in  our  school  life.  We 
were  all  withdrawn  the  next  day,  and  sent  to  school  to 
Dr.  W.  R.  T.  Prior.  I  was  soon  advanced  in  my  studies, 
and  began  Latin.  Being  somewhat  quick  at  my  lessons, 
I  was  pushed  on  very  rapidly,  though  very  superficially, 
and  found  myself  in  Virgil  in  an  incredibly  short  time, 
without  the  slightest  comprehension  of  the  language.  To 
this  day,  I  feel  the  evil  effects  of  this  injudicious  method. 
A  study  which  was  not  understood  became  the  object  of 
contempt.  I  long  retained  possession  of  my  old  Virgil,  all 
spotted  with  tear  drops,  for  many  a  hearty  cry  did  I  have 
over  the  book,  with  no  one  at  home  to  help  me,  and  when 
I  went  to  recite,  few  explanations.  So  I  hobbled  along 
through  those  school-boy  years,  really  knowing  nothing. 


CHAPTER  II 


RELIGIOUS    BEGINNINGS 

/  visit  my  father' s  grave  and  vow  to  follow  his  good  example 
—My  life  is  saved  by  a  negro— My  brother's  death— I  seek 
comfort  in  the  Bible  for  my  mother's  absefice— The  good 
beginning  of  a  life-long  habit — /  am  catechised  by  Bishop 
Gadsden  i?i  my  fourtee?ith  year  a7id  am  confirmed. 

I  VIVIDLY  remember  the  31st  of  January,  1838,  my 
tenth  birthday,  and  how  it  was  observed  by  me.  I 
celebrated  the  day  by  going  to  the  graveyard  where  my 
father  was  buried,^  in  the  cemetery  attached  to  the  old 
church  of*  Prince  George  Winyah,"  Georgetown,  South 
CaroHna,  a  church  built  of  bricks  brought  from  London. 
Climbing  over  the  brick  wall  that  encloses  the  graveyard, 
and  going  to  the  plot  where  my  father's  grave  is,  I  knelt 
beside  it,  and  putting  my  hands  on  the  tombstone,  thanked 
God  for  having  given  me  such  a  father.  In  childish  lan- 
guage I  asked  my  Heavenly  Father  to  spare  my  life  so 
that  I  might  grow  up  to  be  a  man,  and  be  able  at  my 
death  to  leave  behind  me  a  name  as  good  as  my  father's. 
I  asked  that  I  might  never  do  anything  to  bring  a  stain 
of  dishonor  upon  that  name.  I  was  only  a  little  boy,  and  no 
one  told  me  to  do  it,  but  I  seemed  to  be  led  to  that  hal- 
lowed spot,  and  to  draw  inspiration  from  it.  The  incident 
left  an  indelible  impression  on  my  mind.     I  believe  that 

II 


12  Led  071 1 

even  a  child's  prayer  is  heard,  and  I  can  venture  to  hope 
that  my  father  would  not  be  ashamed  of  his  son,  could  he 
know  what  has  been  the  manner  of  my  life.  Who  can 
say  that  he  does  not  know  ?  If  it  would  add  anything  to 
the  joys  of  Paradise,  why  may  not  our  Heavenly  Father 
let  our  dear  dead  know  of  the  life  of  those  whom  they 
surely  have  not  forgotten,  and  in  whom  they  would  delight 
if  they  were  still  on  earth  ?  The  spiritual  world  is  much 
nearer  to  us  than  we  can  possibly  conceive. 

Another  incident  in  my  early  life  seemed  to  give  the 
colored  people  of  the  South  a  claim  on  my  life  service. 
My  life  indeed  was  actually  saved  by  a  negro  who  risked 
his  own  for  my  safety.  I  felt  I  had  incurred  a  debt  which 
I  was  bound,  and  afterwards  endeavored,  to  repay.  The 
facts  are  as  follows  : 

During  the  summer  of  1839  I  was  taken  in  a  small  sail- 
boat, by  a  party  of  young  men,  to  fish  on  the  banks  be- 
tween North  and  South  Islands.  In  a  sudden  squall,  the 
boat  was  capsized,  and  I  was  to  all  appearances  drowned. 
I  remember  the  side  of  the  boat  I  was  sitting  on,  gradually 
sunk  into  the  water,  as  the  boat  turned  over,  but  re- 
member no  more,  until  I  found  myself  in  the  arms  of  a 
colored  man,  being  carried  from  the  beach  to  our  house. 
When  I  came  to  consciousness  he  told  me  it  was  all  right, 
not  to  be  scared,  that  I  was  safe.  We  learned  some  time 
after  that  all  the  occupants  of  the  boat  got  on  the  bottom, 
except  myself.  When  this  colored  man  missed  me,  he 
exclaimed,  **  O  my  God,  where  Miss  Porter  child?" 
Where  ?  Under  the  deep  water  being  swept  out  to  sea. 
Just  then  one  of  my  little  hands  was  seen  stretched  above 
the  water.  The  colored  man  swam  off  from  the  boat, 
dived  down,  and  came  up  with  me  in  his  arms,  uncon- 
scious of  course.  I  was  held  by  him  in  his  arms  on  the 
bottom  of  the  boat  until  the  party  was  rescued  by  some  of 
the  fishermen  in  other  boats. 


Religious  Beginnings,  13 

It  was  somewhere  in  the  same  year  that  my  brother 
John  returned  from  Morristown,  of  which  I  have  already 
spoken.  He  went  to  Charleston,  and  entered  the  counting- 
house  of  Mr.  George  Y.  Davis.  He  was  then  in  his  eight- 
eenth year,  and  old  enough  to  look  into  the  affairs  of  my 
grandfather's  estate.  He  found  serious  evidences  of  mis- 
management, and  in  the  fall  of  1840  he  left  the  counting- 
house  and  went  to  the  two  plantations  to  take  charge  of 
the  interests  of  the  estate.  In  August  of  184 1  there  was 
a  severe  storm  and  heavy  freshet,  causing  a  large  break 
in  the  river  bank.  The  rice  was  at  that  stage  that  the 
broken  bank  had  to  be  mended,  or  the  crop  would  be  lost. 
My  brother,  full  of  energy  and  resolve,  took  it  in  hand, 
and  with  all  the  force  of  slaves  worked  day  and  night,  and 
succeeded  in  his  efforts.  His  clothes  were  wet  for  many 
hours.  When  he  had  put  the  fields  in  order,  he  came 
down  to  North  Island,  at  the  mouth  of  Winyah  Bay,  to 
the  family  summer  resort.  But  the  deadly  cHmate  had 
done  its  work.  Nine  days  after  his  wetting,  he  was  taken 
with  high  bilious  fever,  or  country  fever,  as  it  is  known 
in  this  latitude,  and  on  the  fifth  day  he  died,  in  his  twen- 
tieth year.  My  mother  was  herself  very  sick  at  the  same 
time  and  never  saw  him.  I  was  standing  by  his  bedside, 
and  just  before  he  died,  he  clasped  his  hands  and  said, 
"  Conduct  us.  Heavenly  Father,  to  Thy  throne,  and  there 
kneeling  let  us  praise  Thee,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord." 

We  took  his  body,  on  the  loth  of  September,  to  George- 
town, and  laid  him  beside  our  father,  and  the  sister  who 
had  died  in  1835.  There  were  then  left  only  two  daughters 
and  myself. 

In  the  spring  of  1839,  my  mother,  still  appreciating  her 
own  school  experience  in  Elizabeth  City,  New  Jersey,  and 
being  very  fond  of  the  North,  and  of  Northern  people,  had 
taken  my  sister  Eliza  to  New  York  and  placed  her  at 


1 4  Led  On  I 


school  at  Bordentown,  New  Jersey,  under  the  charge  of 
Madam  Murat,  the  wife  of  Achille  Murat,  the  son  of 
Napoleon's  Marshal.  Madam  Murat  was  a  Miss  Fraser, 
of  Charleston.  There  were  no  steamers  running  between 
Southern  ports  and  New  York  in  those  days.  The  fate 
of  the  Home,  which  had  been  lost  in  a  storm,  and  of  the 
Pulaski,  which  had  been  burnt  at  sea  with  almost  a  total 
loss  of  passengers  and  crew,  had  put  a  temporary  setback 
on  steam  navigation,  and  mother  and  my  sister  had  sailed 
from  Georgetown  in  a  large  brig.  It  was  the  first  time  I 
had  ever  been  separated  from  my  mother.  Only  nine 
months  old  when  my  father  died,  and  a  delicate  child,  I 
had  been  brought  up  with  great  tenderness,  and  was  in- 
deed very  near  to  my  mother.  I  recall  to-da}^  the  anguish 
with  which  I  watched  that  receding  vessel,  and  my  deso- 
lation when  I  went  back  home  with  my  other  sister,  and 
a  maiden  aunt  who  was  left  in  charge.  She  did  all  she 
could  to  comfort  me,  but  I  went  supperless  and  sobbing  to 
bed.  I  was  only  eleven  years  old.  The  next  day  I 
thought  I  must  do  something  that  would  make  God  have 
pity  on  us,  and  carry  our  mother  and  sister  safe,  and  bring 
them  back.  Going  by  sea  to  New  York  then  seemed  an 
awful  thing.  It  certainly  took  longer  to  get  there  than  it 
does  now  to  get  from  here  to  London,  and  there  were  no 
telegraphs,  and  only  partial  railroads,  and  it  took  a  week 
to  get  a  letter  (postage  twenty-five  cents),  so  we  knew  it 
would  be  nearly  a  month  before  we  could  hear.  To  child- 
ish fancy  it  seemed  an  endless  age.  I  had  said  my  prayers, 
but  it  seemed  I  ought  to  do  something  more,  and  it  oc- 
curred to  me,  although  I  knew  the  catechism,  and  had 
read  some  of  the  Bible,  that  I  had  never  read  it  through, 
and  I  thought  if  I  read  it  regularly,  that  God  would  know 
it,  and  somehow,  it  would  have  some  influence  on  my 
mother's  and  sister's  fate.  So  I  shut  myself  up  in  my 
room  and  never  came  out  of  it  all  day  until  I  had  read 


Religious  Beginnings,  15 

through  the  book  of  Genesis.  Next  day  I  read  all  of 
Exodus,  next  all  of  I^eviticus,  next  all  of  Numbers.  But 
the  last  two  days  had  been  rather  tough  on  an  urchin, 
eleven  years  old.  So,  when  the  next  day  came,  I  thought 
the  half  of  Deuteronomy  would  do,  and  the  balance  on  the 
sixth  day.  When  I  started  again  the  seventh  day  I 
thought  I  would  remember  more  if  I  took  a  little  less, 
and  I  resolved  to  cut  down  to  a  chapter  in  the  morning 
and  a  chapter  at  night.  This  became  interesting  to  me, 
and  after  I  had  finished  my  self-allotted  portion  I  used  to 
read  on  when  I  felt  so  inclined,  until  I  was  tired.  This 
habit  begun  at  eleven  years  has  been  continued  through 
life,  with  this  improvement  :  soon  after  it  was  known  that 
I  was  reading  the  Bible  regularly,  someone,  perhaps  my 
old  aunt,  took  the  Prayer  Book,  showed  me  the  calendar, 
and  pointed  out  to  me  that  by  following  the  Prayer  Book 
lectionary  one  would  read  through  in  a  year,  excepting  a 
few  chapters,  the  Old  Testament,  the  four  accounts  of  the 
Gospel,  the  Acts  of  the  Holy  Apostles  twice,  and  the 
Epistles  four  times.  I  immediately  adopted  the  plan,  and 
through  boyhood,  youth,  manhood,  and  old  age  have  kept 
it  up.  How  many  times  I  have  thus  read  the  Bible 
through,  and  how  imperceptibly  it  has  colored  my  thoughts 
and  swayed  my  life  !  In  my  childish  ignorance,  I  thought 
God  needed  to  be  propitiated  by  my  act,  but  for  the 
blessed  overruling  of  His  Divine  Spirit  how  often  I  have 
thanked  God,  who  thus  led  me  to  take  His  Word  as  a 
lantern  to  my  feet  and  a  light  to  my  path.  How  good  a 
thing  it  would  be  if  all  young  people  would  begin  in  early 
youth  thus  regularly  to  read  the  Bible.  It  would  make 
their  youth  cleaner,  and  purer,  and  sweeter,  yes,  and 
happier. 

My  mother  and  sister  had  a  safe  and  pleasant  pass- 
age to  New  York,  and  the  former  returned  to  us  in  the 
fall. 


l6  Led  071 ! 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1841,  the  rector  of  the  church 
in  Georgetown,  the  Rev.  Robt.  T.  Howard,  called  at  our 
home  and  asked  me  to  take  a  stroll  with  him.  In  the 
course  of  our  walk  he  told  me  that  Bishop  Gadsden  had 
sent  him  notice  of  his  intended  visitation  of  the  parish,  and 
that  he,  the  rector,  wished  me  to  give  in  my  name  for  con- 
firmation. I  was  only  a  child,  just  thirteen  years  old,  and 
it  was  the  first  time  the  subject  had  been  proposed  to  me. 
I  expressed  some  hesitation  to  the  rector,  but  he  told  me 
that  as  I  knew  the  catechism,  it  was  now  my  duty  to  be 
confirmed.  I  told  him  that  I  would  give  in  my  name  if 
my  mother  approved  of  it.  With  my  mother's  approval, 
accordingly,  I  sent  in  my  name,  and  that  was  the  only  con- 
versation he  had  with  me,  and  that  was  all  the  clerical  in- 
struction I  received  for  preparation  for  this  solemn  step. 
I  confess  I  knew  nothing  of  the  origin,  or  history,  or  obli- 
gations imposed  in  the  rite,  but  I  remember  that  after  the 
suggestion  had  been  made,  and  my  mother  had  consented, 
I  became  very  desirous  to  be  confirmed,  though  I  knew 
very  little  as  to  what  it  meant.  Bishop  Gadsden  arrived, 
and  on  Saturday  he  took  tea  at  our  house,  the  rector  being 
there  also.  During  the  evening  I  was  brought  in  and  in- 
troduced to  the  bishop  as  one  of  the  candidates.  He  said, 
'  *  Is  not  this  child  rather  young  ?  ' ' 

He  then  began  to  catechize  me.  I  was  very  much 
scared,  but  the  catechism  was  one  thing  I  was  safe  in.  I 
could  not  have  told  who  Nebuchadnezzar's  grandfather 
was,  or  the  names  of  Job's  daughters,  but  I  did  know  the 
catechism  from  beginning  to  end  ;  all  of  mother's  children 
were  drilled  in  that,  and  it  had  been  the  monthly  custom 
of  our  former  rector.  Rev.  P.  T.  Keith,  who  left  us  for 
Saint  Michael's  Church,  Charleston,  in  1839,  to  gather  all 
the  children  round  the  chancel  rail,  and  hear  them  say  the 
catechism.  There  was  no  exposition  of  it  given,  but,  ex- 
pecting that  monthly  exercise  in  public,  we  all  of  us  got 


Religious  Begiimirigs.  1 7 

the  words  pretty  thoroughly  by  heart,  and  were  made 
Prayer  Book  Churchmen  thereby. 

So  the  bishop  could  not  trip  me  ;  I  repeated  it  all,  and 
he  was  so  well  pleased,  that  he  said,  "  I  have  a  good  re- 
port of  you  from  your  rector,  and  you  certainly  know  the 
catechism  remarkably  well,  and  you  can  come  forward." 

So,  on  the  i8th  day  of  April,  1841,  when  I  was  thirteen 
years,  two  months,  and  eighteen  days  old,  I  was  confirmed 
with  eleven  white  candidates,  and  eight  colored.*  My 
youngest  sister  and  myself  were  two  of  the  twelve  white. 
That  service  and  that  Sunday  I  shall  never  forget.  I  felt 
at  the  time  that  something  great  had  been  done. 

When  we  returned  to  the  house,  I  went  into  my  room, 
and  praj^ed  a  simple  child's  prayer,  but  I  know  it  was 
very  earnest.  That  day  there  began  in  me  the  desire  and 
the  purpose  to  study  for  the  ministr>^  But  after  my  con- 
firmation, not  one  word  w^as  said  to  me  by  the  rector.  I 
did  not  know  that  I  was  expected,  or  had  the  right  to, 
come  forward  to  the  Holy  Communion.  I  just  went  on 
as  before,  saying  my  prayers,  reading  my  Bible,  going  to 
church.  I  note  in  passing  that  mother  always  had  family 
praj^ers,  morning  and  evening;  a  sacred,  blessed  custom 
almost  universal  in  those  days — now,  alas,  almost  uni- 
versally neglected.  As  I  look  back  to  this  event,  I  have 
often  wondered  if  my  experience  was  that  of  many  others 
in  the  different  parishes ;  no  confirmation  classes,  no  in- 
struction, no  following  up.  If  so,  what  wonder  that  the 
church  is  full  of  members  who  know  very  little  of  her 
doctrine  or  history.  I  was  confirmed  in  April,  1841.  I 
never  communed  until  Christmas  Day,  1845,  but  of  that 
I  will  speak  further  on. 

*  Miss  Sarah  Henning,  of  Georgetown,  is  the  only  white  member 
of  that  class,  beside  myself,  who  is  now  alive. 


CHAPTER  III 

FIRST   SCHOOL    EXPERIKNCK 

Threatened  disaster  averted — Mr.  Cotes' s  school — I  leave  it 
shattered  in  health — Country  leisuix  restores  me — Good 
influe7ices — /  determine  to  become  a  com77iunicant. 


IN  the  spring  of  1842,  my  mother  took  my  second  sister 
to  Bordentown,  to  place  her  at  school  at  Madam 
Murat's.  My  sister  Eliza  she  brought  home  in  the  fall. 
During  this  fall  a  great  trial  came  to  us.  I  was  too  young 
to  know  how  it  came  about,  but  it  was  evident  that  the 
mismanagement  which  caused  it  could  not  be  laid  to  my 
mother's  charge. 

It  came  to  light  that  the  house  which  my  father  had 
built,  and  where  all  his  children  were  born,  the  house 
which  my  mother  supposed  had  been  left  secure  to  her, 
was,  with  all  the  silver  and  furniture,  obliged  to  be  sold, 
so  that  she  was  to  be  stripped  of  the  last  penny.  There 
was  nothing  before  us  but  to  give  up  the  town  house,  and 
live  in  the  country  in  winter,  and  on  the  Island  in  the  sum- 
mer. My  mother's  support  henceforth  came  out  of  the 
income  allowed  by  the  court  for  the  expenses  of  my  sisters 
and  myself.  It  was  a  dreadful  struggle  and  many  an  un- 
happy day  and  evening  did  my  mother  and  I  pass  to- 
gether. It  was  so  hard  to  give  up  her  home,  bound  to 
her  by  so  many  ties.     Soon  the  house  was  advertised  for 

18 


First  School  Experience.  1 9 

sale,  and  we  were  waiting  to  be  turned  out  of  it.  As  we 
had  a  refuge  on  the  plantation,  no  one  had  offered  any 
help. 

On  the  evening  before  the  sale,  we  had  our  usual  family 
prayers  and  went  to  bed,     I  could  not  sleep  from  distress. 

The  light  had  been  put  out,  and  I  was  lying  in  bed, 
when  I  heard  the  buzzing  of  a  fly.  I  listened  for  some 
time,  and  it  annoyed  me  so  much  that  I  got  out  of  bed 
and  lit  the  candle.  Up  on  the  ceiling  I  saw  a  large  fly 
entangled  in  a  spider's  web,  and  the  old  spider  at  a  little 
distance  off,  looking  on,  ready  at  the  right  moment  to 
make  his  fatal  attack.  The  poor  fly,  by  his  desperate 
efforts  to  get  out,  was  only  making  things  worse.  My 
sympathy  was  excited  ;  so  getting  on  a  chair  and  taking 
a  stick,  I  managed  to  break  the  web  and  get  the  fly  out. 
It  shook  itself  vigorously,  and  flew  off,  while  the  spider 
beat  a  retreat  and  got  beyond  my  reach.  I  went  back  to 
bed  and  began  to  think.  If  I  was  sorry  for  the  fly,  and 
let  it  out  of  its  danger,  would  not  God  be  sorry  for  the 
widow,  and  her  fatherless  children,  who  were  all  trying 
to  be  Christians,  and  would  He  not  send  somebody  to  let 
us  out  of  the  trap  that  a  worse  than  spider  had  put  us  in  ? 
I  fell  asleep. 

Next  day  I  went  to  the  place  of  auction,  and  heard  our 
house  put  up  for  sale — I,  a  poor  boy  of  fourteen  years, 
with  a  weeping  widowed  mother  at  home. 

I  heard  someone  say  one  thousand  dollars — and  the 
crier  sang  out,  "  One  thousand  dollars,  one  thousand 
dollars,  one  thousand  dollars  !  Is  no  more  offered  for  this 
valuable  property  ?     Once,  twice,  three  times, — gone  !  " 

The  auctioneer  asked  who  the  purchaser  was  ?  A.  W. 
Dozier,  my  father's  old  law  partner,  then  came  forward, 
and  said  he  was  the  purchaser.  The  big  tears  rolled 
down  my  cheeks.  Then  the  furniture  and  the  silver  were 
put  up.     Oh,  the  agony  of  that  hour  !     Someone  bid  ten 


20  Led  On  ! 


dollars.  I  nearly  fainted  as  it  was  all  knocked  down  by 
this  auctioneer.  As  I  turned  to  leave  the  place  Mr. 
Dozier  came  up  to  me  and  taking  me  by  the  arm,  said, 
**  I  have  bought  the  house  and  furniture  in  your  name. 
Come  and  sign  a  paper  at  my  office. ' ' 

I  was  only  a  child,  but  the  incident  of  the  spider  and 
the  fly  recurred  to  my  mind,  and  I  told  him  of  it. 

'  *  God  had  not  forgotten  you, ' '  he  replied  ;  ' '  but  I  had 
to  keep  quiet,  lest  if  it  had  got  out  that  I  was  going  to 
buy  the  property  in,  someone  might  have  run  it  up.  But 
nobody  made  a  bid.  I  wish  I  had  bid  one  hundred  dol- 
lars ;  I  could  have  got  it  at  that,  for  everyone  felt  so  much 
for  your  mother.  Reading  the  agony  on  your  face,  no 
one  would  have  bid  a  dollar  against  you." 

He  advanced  the  money,  and  I,  a  boy  of  fourteen,  gave 
him  my  personal  bond  for  one  thousand  dollars,  insured 
and  assigned.  I  paid  the  interest  and  insurance  out  of 
my  income  ;  the  one  thousand  dollars  in  full  a  fev\^  days 
after  coming  of  age. 

I  was  now  getting  to  be  too  old  a  boy  to  be  kept  at  a  small 
village  school,  and  the  question  arose,  where  was  I  to  go  ? 
One  of  my  sisters  was  at  Morristown  at  school,  but  mother 
could  not  bring  herself  to  send  me  so  far  away,  as  I  was 
not  strong. 

In  those  days,  Mr.  Cotes,  an  Englishman,  had  the  most 
promising  school  in  that  region  of  the  country.  He  took 
a  limited  number  of  boarders.  It  was  an  expensive 
school,  and  resorted  to  only  by  the  sons  of  people  of 
property  and  position,  so  that  it  was  necessary  to  enter  a 
boy's  name  for  a  vacancy  a  year  or  two  ahead.  Mr. 
Cotes,  happening  to  come  up  to  Georgetown  to  visit  Mr. 
William  Bull  Pringle,  at  his  plantation,  some  six  miles 
out  of  town,  I  was  sent  to  him  on  my  horse  to  have  him 
enter  my  name.  The  old  man  had  but  one  eye,  and  he 
struck  me  with  terror  the  first  time  I  saw  him.     I  never 


First  School  Experieitce.  2 1 

did  get  over  the  terror  and  dislike  with  which  the  man 
inspired  me.  My  name,  however,  was  entered  by  him 
for  the  next  year,  and  I  rode  off  wishing  most  sincerely 
that  he  had  said  he  had  no  place  for  me.  In  those  days 
the  school  term  was  for  the  whole  3'ear,  saving  the  holiday 
in  December  and  April.  The  poor  children  had  to  endure 
the  drudgery  of  studying  all  through  the  summer  months. 

In  May,  1842,  I  went  down  to  Charleston,  and  was  en- 
rolled as  a  pupil  with  Mr.  Cotes. 

I  never  can  forget  a  lesson  I  received  the  second  day  at 
dinner.  I  had  helped  myself  as  usual,  when  Mr.  Cotes, 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  asked  me  if  I  was  going  to  eat  all 
that  was  on  my  plate  ?  Never  having  come  in  contact 
with  such  manners,  I  flushed  up  and  felt  indignant,  and 
answered,  I  did  not  know  whether  I  would  or  not. 
' '  Well, ' '  he  said,  ' '  I  will  pass  it  over  to-day,  but  hence- 
forth help  yourself  to  as  much  as  you  wish,  but  whatever 
you  put  on  your  plate  you  must  eat."  He  entered  into 
no  explanations,  and  I  was  too  angry  to  eat  any  more. 
The  old  man  had  a  rough  way,  but  reflection  soon  told 
me  he  was  right.  Whatever  was  left  on  the  plates  was 
wasted  ;  servants  would  not  eat  it,  and  he  kept  no  dogs. 
There  were  some  fourteen  or  fifteen  boys  at  table  ;  if  each 
of  us  left  a  good  sized  piece  of  butter  on  our  plates,  the 
aggregate  of  wasted  butter  would  almost  sufiice  for  the 
next  meal  ;  and  so  of  everything  else.  Multiply  each 
day's  waste  by  the  ten  months,  and  it  was  clear  our  care- 
lessness would  be  the  cause  of  a  dead  loss.  I  have  never 
forgotten  that  lesson,  especially  when,  in  after  years,  I 
had  to  provide  for  three  hundred  boys.  Mr.  Cotes' s  first 
rebuke  has  been  very  efiicacious  in  saving  my  pocket. 

The  next  lesson  I  learned  was  from  seeing  in  an  out- 
building walls  covered  with  all  manner  of  vile  scribblings. 
Brought  up  with  the  greatest  care  by  my  mother,  with 
my  sisters  as  my  principal  companions,  I  was  innocent  of 


22  Led  On! 

that  form  of  evil.  This  writing  and  those  drawings  were 
new  to  me,  and  with  the  perversity  of  human  nature  I 
looked  at  things  I  ought  not  to  have  seen,  and  read, 
although  a  great  deal  of  what  I  read  I  did  not  under- 
stand ;  but  the  effect  was  revolting  to  my  moral  sense. 
That  lesson  has  served  through  thirty  years  to  make  me 
take  care,  as  the  head  of  a  great  boys'  school,  that  no 
writing  be  permitted  on  any  of  the  walls  of  the  institu- 
tion, a  precaution  quite  as  conducive  to  the  morals  of  the 
boys  of  to-day  as  the  lesson  from  wastefulness  was  to 
economical  management. 

I  had  not  been  long  at  Mr.  Cotes' s  school  before  I  was 
attacked  with  nervous  depression.  When  I  went  down 
to  breakfast  a  great  lump  would  rise  in  my  throat,  and  I 
could  not  swallow  a  mouthful,  even  of  coffee,  and  I  would 
go  to  school  weak  and  scared  and  miserable.  I  stood  out 
the  summer  of  1842,  and  the  winter  of  1842-43,  until 
September,  1843,  when  I  was  taken  down  with  nervous 
fever,  that  soon  became  typhoid,  and  I  was  desperately  ill. 

My  old  doctor.  Dr.  Wm.  T.  Wragg,  watched  me  de- 
votedly, but  told  my  mother  that  it  had  been  brought  on 
by  my  unhappiness  at  school,  and  when  I  recovered  later, 
in  October,  he  said,  that  to  keep  me  longer  at  my  books 
would  be  death  to  me.  That  I  must  go  home  and  hunt, 
and  fish,  and  ride,  and  not  study  for  months. 

Of  course  I  was  withdrawn  at  once  from  school,  and 
taken  to  Georgetown.  The  country  house  was  furnished, 
and  I  owned  a  riding  horse.  A  fine  gun,  powder, 
shot,  and  a  fishing  outfit  were  purchased,  and  with  a 
trusted  man-servant  in  charge  of  me,  I  was  sent  alone 
into  the  country  to  carry  out  the  doctor's  directions. 
Nearly  all  negro  women  are  good  cooks,  so  orders  were 
given  that  one  of  them  should  be  brought  from  the  fields 
to  do  my  cooking.  A  supply  of  light  reading  was  sent 
with  me,    and  I  was  turned  loose.     As  my  sister  was 


First  School  Experience.  23 

engaged  to  be  married,  it  was  not  convenient  for  the 
whole  family  to  join  me  in  that  country  life  which  my 
mother  always  detested. 

During  the  fever  that  nearly  cost  me  my  life,  I  had 
grown  rapidly,  and  was  now  nearly  six  feet  tall,  as  thin 
as  a  lathe.  This  overgrown  lad  of  fifteen  and  a  half  was 
thus  thrown  on  his  own  resources.  It  was  the  most  in- 
judicious thing  I  ever  knew  my  mother  to  do  in  her  rear- 
ing of  me,  yet  she  trusted  me  fully,  and  was  unsuspicious 
of  harm. 

During  that  winter  it  became  necessary,  in  some  busi- 
ness arrangements,  that  I  should  read  my  grandfather's 
will,  and  there  I  learned  that  these  two  plantations  and 
two  thirds  of  the  slaves  would  be  mine  at  the  age  of 
twenty-one.  As  I  roamed  at  large  over  these  fields, 
several  hundred  acres  of  rice- land,  and  several  thousand 
acres  of  pine-land,  I  came  to  the  long  village  row  of 
houses,  occupied  by  the  slaves.  All  of  this  I  regarded  as 
prospectively  mine.  To  a  boy  the  acres  seemed  endless, 
and  the  slaves  numberless,  and  the  negro  village  a  little 
town.  A  rice-pounding  mill,  barns,  cattle,  hogs,  horses, 
mules,  farm  utensils,  filled  my  imagination,  and  I  remem- 
ber how,  as  the  impression  grew  of  what  was  mine,  the 
desire  and  purpose  to  study  for  the  ministry  became 
gradually  weaker,  until  at  last  it  died  away.  I  was  en- 
joying the  foretaste  of  a  free  Southern  planter's  life,  and 
it  had  its  own  attractions.  But  I  was  alone,  with  no  com- 
panions, perfectly  unrestrained,  a  man  in  stature,  a  boy 
in  age  and  experience,  with  fast- returning  vigor  and 
strength,  conditions  around  me  offering  many  temptations 
to  sin,  and  memory  recalls  some  three  or  four  occurrences 
that  I  know  have  been  blotted  out  of  God's  book  of  re- 
membrance, but  which,  though  he  has  repented  of  them, 
one  never  forgets. 

The  latter  part  of  April,  when  it  was  no  longer  safe  to 


24  Led  On  ! 

remain  on  a  rice  plantation,  saw  me  returned  to  town 
quite  restored  to  health.     But  from  September  to  May  my 
books  had  been  utterly  neglected.     I  had  read  a  good 
deal,  but  chiefly  light  literature— all  of  Scott's  novels  and 
manyrothers,  a  little  history,  and  a  good  part  of  Shake- 
speare's plays  ;  but  I  had  pursued  no  serious  study.     My 
Bible  reading  was  never  intermitted  one  day,  but  for  that 
what  might  I  not  have  done,  or  what  might  I  not  have 
been  ?     I  remember  that  the  question  of  the  renewal  of 
my  studies  seemed  to  be  an  open  one,  but  I  told  my 
mother  that  I  would  not  consent  to  give  up  my  schooling  ; 
I  had  the  means,  I  said  ;  I  was  still  young— it  was  then 
the  spring  of  1844,  and  I  had  reached  my  sixteenth  year 
on  the  31st  of  the  previous  January.    I  had  still  five  3^ears 
before  my  majority,  and  what  was  I  to  do  with  those  five 
years?     To  school   I  would   go,   but  where?     Nothing 
could    have  induced  me  to  return  to  Mr.    Cotes' s,    and 
Doctor  Wragg  urged  that  I  be  sent  to  the  interior,  as  best 
for  my  health.     Mount  Zion  Academy,  or  College,  as  it 
was  called  at  Winnsborough,  under  Mr.  G.  W.    Hutson, 
was  selected  ;  so  I  packed  up,  and  started  on  the  steamer 
Anson,  a  small  river  steamer  that  plied  between  George- 
town and  Charleston. 

On  the  boat  I  met  Mr.  Thos.  Pinckney  Alston,  who 
gave  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  his  son  Charles,  then 
a  student  in  the  South  Carolina  College.  Mr.  Alston's 
son  WilHam  had  been  a  classmate  of  mine  at  Mr.  Cotes' s 
school.  It  was  Friday,  the  2d  of  June,  1844,  that  I  got 
on  board  the  train  in  Charleston,  at  seven  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  it  took  all  day,  till  near  six  in  the  after- 
noon, to  make  the  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  miles  to 
Columbia.  That  was  the  rapid  transit  of  those  days,  fifty- 
three  years  ago.  On  Saturday  I  went  up  to  the  South 
Carolina  College,  and  presented  to  Mr.  Charles  Alston 
my  letter  of  introduction  from  his  father.     He  was  court- 


First  School  Experience.  25 

eously  kind  and  showed  me  everything  about  the  college, 
and  finally  took  me  to  his  room.  There  he  went  through 
his  private  store  of  books,  and  one  set  he  pointed  to  as 
specially  his  choice  set.  He  was  a  devout,  earnest  Church- 
man, and  I  remember  Kirke  White's  poems,  The  Imitation^ 
by  Thomas  a  Kempis,  Taylor's  Holy  Living  a7id  Dyings 
Sutton's  How  to  Live  a?id  How  to  Die,  and  other  books  of 
that  stamp,  and  I  left  him  very  much  impressed. 

He  invited  me  to  take  a  seat  in  his  pew  at  Trinity 
Church,  Columbia,  of  which  Doctor  Shand  was  then  the 
venerable  rector.  It  was  on  Trinity  Sunday,  June  4,  1844, 
that  I  sat  with  Christopher  Gadsden,  Charles  Alston,  and 
three  others  in  the  pew.  There  was  a  celebration  of  the 
Holy  Communion,  and  all  these  young  collegians  re- 
mained, and  I  came  out. 

As  I  walked  back  to  the  hotel,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  I  asked  myself  the  question.  Why  was  not  I  a  com- 
municant ?  It  had  never  been  put  to  me  before.  I 
thought  to  myself,  ' '  I  have  been  confirmed ;  why  do  those 
young  men  stay  in,  and  I  come  out  ?  ' '  But  I  found  no 
answer.  As  I  was  leaving  the  pew,  Mr.  Alston  whispered 
to  me,  "  Come  up  and  spend  the  evening  at  my  room." 
I  went  to  dinner  at  the  hotel,  and  spent  the  afternoon 
walking  about  Columbia,  as  I  had  never  been  in  the  place 
before.  After  tea,  I  lit  a  cigar  (an  over-indulgent  mother 
had  permitted  me  that  winter  to  acquire  the  habit  of 
smoking)  and  strolled  up  to  the  college. 

I  expected  to  spend  a  social  evening,  smoking,  and  per- 
haps taking  a  glass  of  beer.  As  I  approached  Mr.  Alston's 
room,  I  heard  the  low  monotonous  sound  of  someone 
reading.  I  knocked  and  was  invited  in.  As  the  door 
opened  I  saw  the  room  was  full  of  young  men  all  sitting 
quietly  round.  I  was  simply  motioned  to  a  chair,  and 
the  reader  went  on.  There  were  fourteen  young  men  in 
the  room,  and  they  had  just  begun  the  evening  service. 


26  Led  On  / 

All  the  forms  of  the  Church  were  observed  :  we  stood, 
and  sat,  and  knelt,  sang,  and  responded,  and  after  the 
hymn  came  the  sermon.  I  do  not  recall  one  syllable  of 
it,  nor  whose  it  was.  I  do  not  think  I  heard  a  word  of  it 
at  the  time.  But  the  spirit  of  God  was  doing  His  work 
through  the  example  of  those  young  men.  It  all  came 
over  me  with  a  convincing  power.  There  I  was  in  the 
South  Carolina  College,  a  place,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  not 
particularly  odorous  of  sanctity  at  that  time.  Here  were 
fourteen  young  men  assembled  in  the  midst  of  a  somewhat 
godless  surrounding,  separating  themselves  from  all  that 
was  worldly,  and  hearing  a  sermon,  not  ashamed  of  the 
Gospel  of  Christ.  I  contrasted  their  Hfe  with  mine.  I 
suppose  that  my  life  had  been  as  free  from  vice  as  any 
other  young  man  in  five  thousand,  but  it  had  not  been  a 
life  that  led  up  to  the  life  that  these  young  men  were 
leading.  My  thoughts  were  intense  ;  my  emotions  deep. 
The  service  ended,  I  was  introduced  to  those  I  did  not 
know.  I  shook  hands  all  around,  went  up  to  Mr.  Alston, 
and  simply  said,  ''Thank  you,"  declined  to  stay,  and 
started  for  the  hotel. 

On  reaching  my  chamber  I  locked  my  door,  and  there 
on  my  knees  poured  out  my  soul  to  God,  thanking  Him 
for  that  day,  and  all  its  blessed  influences.  I  claimed  the 
cleansing  blood  of  my  dear  Saviour,  and  asked  to  be  re- 
ceived at  the  Supper  of  the  Lord.  The  peace  sought  was 
given  me,  and  I  went  to  bed,  happier  than  I  had  ever  been 
in  my  life.  Of  course,  so  marked  an  event  in  one's  life 
clings  to  the  memory,  and  the  slightest  detail  is  vivid 
still.  In  looking  back,  I  have  often  thought  that  in  my 
neglect  of  the  Holy  Communion  I  had  been  more  sinned 
against  than  sinning.  The  spiritual  life  of  the  Church, 
or  of  its  clergy,  did  not  seem  in  those  days  to  be  felt  by 
the  people,  at  least  I  had  never  seen  or  felt  it  ;  and  in  all 
these  years,  from  April,  1841  to  June,  1844,  I  had  never 


First  School  Experience. 


27 


even  been  told  that  the  blessed  Sacrament  was  meant  for 
me,  as  a  means,  and  help,  to  keep  the  solemn  vow  I  had 
made  at  my  confirmation.  Yet  I  had  needed  help,  for 
in  those  three  years  I  had  done  some  few  things  that  my 
conscience  then,  and  there,  sorely  condemned  me  for.  But 
the  Saviour  had  me  in  His  tender  care  all  the  time. 


CHAPTER   IV 


A   WISE   SCHOOIvMASTER 


I  go  to  Mount  Zion  College — Happy  and  profitable  days  under 
a  wise  schoolmaster — Turkey  stealing — My  success  as  an 
actor — I  forswear  gambling — My  opinion  and  practice  with 
regard  to  lotteries  and  raffles — Boyish  pranks — The  power 
of  co7ifide7ice. 


THE  onl}^  railroad  in  existence  in  the  State  of  South 
Carolina,  in  1844,  was  the  South  Carolina  Railroad, 
for  a  long  while  the  longest  road  in  the  world.  It  started 
from  Charleston,  and  at  Branch ville,  sixty- four  miles 
thence,  it  forked,  one  branch  going  to  Augusta,  Georgia, 
the  other  to  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  and  at  each  of  these 
places  it  stopped.  The  town  of  Winnsborough,  where 
Mount  Zion  College  was  situated,  is  twenty-five  miles 
north  of  Columbia,  and  the  only  means  of  transportation, 
was  by  a  four-horse  stage  which  ran  three  times  a  week, 
and  it  took  eight  hours  to  accomplish  the  journey,  for  the 
road  was  rough  and  hilly. 

On  Monday  the  5th  of  June,  1844,  I  mounted  to  the 
seat  beside  the  driver,  and  started  off  at  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  a  light-hearted  boy.  The  events  of  the  day 
before  had  been  a  reality  to  me,  and  I  felt  that  I  had 
turned  my  back  on  the  past,  and  was  in  many  things 
entering  on  a  new  life.     I  never  had  wallowed  in  the 

28 


A  Wise  Schoolmaster.  29 


gutter,  nor  had  I  experienced  those  excruciating  agonies  in 
the  conviction  of  sin  that  we  sometimes  read  about.  The 
pangs  of  conscience  with  me  had  been  sharp  and  short. 
In  my  inmost  soul  I  had  alw^ays  loved  God,  even  from  a 
little  child,  and  His  ineffable  love,  shining  all  through 
His  Word,  as  I  read  it  systematically  for  five  years,  had 
pierced  my  inmost  being.  When  I  felt  contrition,  I  threw 
myself  at  the  Saviour's  feet,  and  knew  that  He  had  taken 
me  to  a  loving  Father  who,  for  His  sake,  had  freely,  fully, 
and  finally  forgiven  me  all  that  w^as  wrong  in  my  past. 
At  that  early  age,  I  had  learned  what  God's  Word  said, 
that  Jesus  had  borne  my  sins  in  His  own  body  on  the 
tree,  and  I  believed  it  as  a  fact;  so  that  with  a  merry 
heart  I  started  on  my  journey  to  my  new  school,  among 
total  strangers;  for  I  did  not  know  a  person  either  in  the 
town  or  the  school.  We  arrived  about  three  in  the  after- 
noon, and  the  stage  drove  straight  up  to  the  college. 

There  I  found  over  one  hundred  boys,  who,  of  course, 
all  gathered  in  a  crowd  to  see  what  sort  of  a  chap  was  this 
low-country  planter's  son. 

At  that  period  there  was  a  distinction  and  difference 
between  up-country  and  low-country  people  very  gen- 
erally recognized.  This  is  not  so  much  the  case  now, 
since  the  means  of  intercommunication  have  improved  and 
the  intercourse  of  the  two  sections  has  become  general 
and  frequent.  I  was  rather  handsomely  dressed,  for  my 
tailor  was  Charles  D.  Carr,  the  leader  in  that  line  in 
Charleston.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  boys  looked  upon 
me  as  a  dude  or  swell,  neither  of  which  words,  by  the 
bye,  had  then  been  coined.  I  know  I  looked  upon  them 
as  a  pretty  rough  set  of  fellows,  blunt  and  bluff,  but  no 
doubt  honest.  But  here  and  there  I  noticed  boys  of  a 
gentler  type,  some  of  whom,  soon  became  my  intimate 
friends.  I  was  led  up  to  Mr.  Hutson's  study,  a  little 
flustered.     But  the  first  glance  at  Mr.  Hutson  put  me  at 


30  Led  On  I 


my  ease.     A  more  complete  contrast  to  Mr.  Cotes  cannot 
be  conceived. 

Mr.  Hutson  was  a  large  man,  with  a  most  benign  coun- 
tenance, and  the  sweetest  smile  I  had  at  that  time  seen  on 
the  face  of  a  man.  He  rose  to  greet  me,  and  as  he  ad- 
vanced I  perceived  that  he  was  slightly  lame,  one  leg 
being  somewhat  shorter  than  the  other.  He  had  a  cigar 
in  his  mouth,  held  between  his  lips  right  at  the  end  of  the 
cigar,  and  in  the  middle  of  his  mouth.  I  found  out  after- 
wards that  out  of  school  he  always  had  that  cigar  in  the 
same  position.  I  often  wondered  how  he  managed  to 
secure  it  and  keep  its  balance.  His  words  of  greeting 
were  gentle  and  reassuring,  and  I  loved  the  man  at  once, 
and  did  to  the  end,  and  even  now  revere  his  memory. 
He  ordered  me  to  be  taken  to  my  room,  and  there  I  found 
assigned  as  my  chum  a  relative  of  Mr.  Hutson  named 
John  Harrington.  At  first  we  did  not  take  to  each  other, 
and  were  soon  at  sword's  points.  But,  somehow  or  other, 
we  learned  to  value  each  other's  qualities,  our  enmity 
passed  away,  and  we  became  bosom  friends,  so  that  one 
was  seldom  seen  without  the  other. 

The  room — well,  it  was  the  exact  opposite  to  the  tidy  one 
I  had  left  at  home,  and  it  took  me  some  time  to  break  my- 
self into  it.  The  first  night  found  me,  soon  after  I  had 
gone  to  bed,  candle  in  hand,  on  a  hunt.  It  did  not  take 
very  long  to  find  the  game,  for  the  bed  was  lively,  with 
more  dwellers  in  it  than  the  legitimate  occupants.  There 
was  an  extensive  cremation  that  night,  and  many  nights, 
as  the  candle  was  run  along  the  seams  and  under  the 
ticking.  Carbolic  soap,  kerosene  oil,  hot  water,  and  fire, 
all  were  used,  until  we  got  that  room  more  exclusively  to 
ourselves.  I  found  that  the  boys  brought  their  water, 
and  cut  their  own  wood,  for  we  had  no  water-works  nor 
steam-heaters.  And  here  the  training  I  had  received  at 
home  came  in.     I  had  owned  a  body  servant,  whose  sole 


A  Wise  Schoolmaster,  3 1 

duty  was  to  wait  upon  my  orders,  and  of  course  there  had 
been  no  need  for  me  to  do  anything  toward  waiting  upon 
myself  But  mother  had  often  said  that  no  one  knew 
what  he  might  be  compelled  to  do  before  he  died,  and 
so  she  sometimes  made  me  put  m}-  room  in  order,  light 
my  fire,  bring  the  water,  and  clean  my  own  boots.  It 
was  not  often  done,  but  enough  to  insure  that  I  knew 
how  to  do  it.  So  when  I  saw  these  boys  so  engaged,  I 
thought  I  would  make  myself  disliked  if  I  hired  a  serv^ant, 
which  I  had  the  money  to  do  ;  I  therefore  set  to  work, 
and  did  as  the  rest  of  the  boys  did,  much  to  their  surprise. 
As  I  found  out  afterwards,  when  they  heard  I  had  come 
from  the  rice  section  of  the  State  they  expected  to  see  a 
soft,  green,  self-indulgent  noodle,  and  to  have  much  fun 
out  of  him.  But  I  undeceived  them  at  the  start  as  to  my 
capacity  to  run  abreast  with  them. 

The  first  serious  jar  came  when  I  was  counted  in  to  go 
off  at  night  to  steal  turkeys  for  a  secret  supper.  I  drew 
the  line  very  emphatically  there,  and  expressed  my  as- 
tonishment that  boys  calling  themselves  gentlemen  could 
engage  in  such  mean  rascality.  They  did  not  see  it  thus. 
It  was  not  theft  they  said,  only  a  boyish  lark,  full  of  fun. 
I  took  the  ground  that  I  could  see  no  difference  be- 
tween the  crowd  that  would  indulge  in  such  a  lark  and 
the  darkies  who  robbed  the  chicken  roost;  indeed  the 
former  were  much  worse,  for  they  knew,  or  ought  to  have 
known,  better.  There  was  a  long  discussion.  I  succeeded 
in  drawing  a  few  over  to  my  side,  and  they  never  again 
joined  that  crowd.  In  fact,  the  stand  I  took  greatly  les- 
sened the  frequency  of  the  abomination.  But  it  marked  a 
departure.  There  were  other  evil  practices  in  which  I 
was  invited  to  take  a  hand,  but  in  vain.  At  last  all  knowl- 
edge of  these  pranks  was  kept  from  me.  It  did  not  make 
me  popular,  but  it  did  secure  me  respect. 

The  boys  at  Mount  Zion  were  allowed  to  go  to  the 


32  Led  On  ! 


church  which  they  preferred,  and  of  course  I  went  to  the 
Episcopal  church,  the  first  Sunday  after  my  arrival.  I 
had  intended  to  introduce  myself  to  the  rector,  and  inform 
him  that  I  had  been  confirmed,  and  desired  to  go  to  the 
Holy  Communion.  The  first  service  threw  me  into  my- 
self. The  Prayer  Book  is  often  badly  handled,  and  it  does 
seem  strange  that  educated  men  should  so  often  seem  to 
be  incapable  of  appreciating  the  power  and  the  beauty  of 
the  liturgy.  And  the  Bible, — how  often  those  chapters 
are  murdered !  I  could  no  more  have  opened  my  heart 
to  the  clergyman  than  I  could  have  done  so  to  an  oak  log. 
Perhaps  it  was  my  fault,  but  I  was  only  a  boy  making  my 
way  among  strangers.  I  just  shut  myself  within  ntyself, 
and  kept  on  trying  to  nourish  my  religious  life  as  best  I 
could,  with  surroundings  not  altogether  elevating.  For  a 
time  I  went  conscientiously  to  the  Episcopal  church, 
morning  and  afternoon,  alone,  for  there  was  no  other 
church  boy  there ;  but  it  was  an  irksome  task,  relinquished 
at  last  when  another  interest  arose,  of  which  more  anon. 

I  was  very  fond  of  declamation,  and  after  a  while  in- 
fused a  taste  for  it  into  some  of  my  fellow-students.  From 
one  point  to  another  we  went  on  until  we  formed  a  Thes- 
pian Corps.  Mr.  Hutson  took  a  very  great  interest  in  it. 
He  had  the  stage  in  the  large  school  house  fitted  up  with 
shifting  scenes,  and  encouraged  us  with  his  presence,  and 
aided  us  with  his  criticisms  and  approval.  Artemus 
Goodwyn  and  myself  always  took  the  female  parts  of  the 
plays,  and  Mr.  Hutson  was  so  well  satisfied  with  one 
private  exercise,  that  he  consented  that  we  should  invite 
the  public.  A  theatrical  exhibition  was  a  novelty  in  those 
days  in  that  community,  and  I  am  sure  very  many  in 
Winnsborough  had  never  witnessed  a  play.  So  our  show 
was  crowded.  Jei^emy  Diddle r,  and  Box  and  Cox,  and  a 
number  of  laughable  performances  were  given,  and  re- 
ceived with  vociferous  applause.     We  made  such  an  im- 


A   Wise  Schoolmaster,  33 


pression  that  some  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  town,  Hugh 
Aiken  and  his  brother  James,  some  lawyers,  and  others, 
formed  an  association  in  the  town  and  invited  us  to  join. 
Mr.  Hutson  selected  a  certain  number  of  us  and  gave  his 
consent.  Goodwyn  and  myself  were  among  the  number. 
The  association  fitted  up  more  elaborately  a  large  upper 
room  over  Mr.  Aiken's  store;  and  there  we  gave  several 
exhibitions.  We  became  quite  aspiring,  and  selected  The 
Lady  of  Lyojis  for  presentation.  We  gave  a  great  deal  of 
time  to  it,  and  Mr.  Hugh  Aiken  (afterwards  colonel  in  the 
Confederate  army,  and  killed  in  a  night  skirmish  ten  days 
after  the  burning  of  Columbia),  played  Claude  Melnotte  to 
my  Pauline.  I  was  most  elaborately  got  up,  with  a  wig 
of  long  hair,  and  a  dress  made  by  some  ladies  of  our 
acquaintance.  It  was  before  the  days  of  hoop-skirts,  but 
the  ladies  wore  their  skirts  very  full.  I  had  on  seventeen, 
and  often  since  have  wondered  how  I  walked. 

Before  the  play,  by  request,  I  recited  The  Mayiiac  in 
costume.  The  effect  was  very  startling,  for  as  the  curtain 
went  down  a  piercing  shriek  came  from  the  audience. 
One  of  the  ladies  had  been  thrown  into  hysterics.  Had 
she  seen  the  fun  that  was  going  on  behind  the  curtain  she 
would  not  have  given  way  in  that  manner.  While  quiet 
was  being  restored  in  the  immense  audience,  for  the  town 
and  country  round  crowded  in  to  see  the  play,  the  actors 
were  getting  themselves  ready.  The  curtain  rose  and 
dead  silence  prevailed.  Mr.  Hutson  sat  in  a  conspicuous 
place,  and  soon  the  anxiety  wore  off  his  benign  face,  and 
his  perfect  satisfaction  as  to  how  the  play  was  going  gave 
us  great  encouragement.  At  times  the  applause  actually 
stopped  the  play;  and  during  the  scene  where  Pauline 
recognizes  Claude  and  rushes  into  his  arms,  the  audience 
went  wild.  It  all  comes  back  to  me  with  great  distinct- 
ness. After  the  play  they  made  us  raise  the  curtain  again 
and  again.     We  bowed  and  bowed  and  smiled,  while  the 


34  Led  On  / 


audience  seemed  not  to  have  enough  of  it,  until  in  sheer 
desperation  we  quitted  the  stage,  leaving  the  curtain  up, 
and  declined  to  appear  again.  I  have  no  doubt  our  heads 
were  quite  turned  at  the  time,  and  indeed  it  must  have 
been  a  great  success,  for,  in  the  years  that  have  since 
passed,  I  have  met  people  who  have  told  me  how  well 
they  remembered  that  play,  and  my  Pauline.  Only  the 
day  before  yesterday,  November  2,  1896,  a  venerable  and 
distinguished  old  gentleman  spoke  of  his  having  been 
there,  and  he  said  he  had  never  forgotten  the  occasion. 
It  was  our  final  triumph.  Some  of  us  found  that  it  was 
taking  too  much  time,  and  the  excitement  and  the  ap- 
plause were  unsettling  us,  so  we  thought  it  best  to  stop. 
Goodwyn  and  I  retired,  and  that  soon  broke  up  the  asso- 
ciation. 

We  had  as  Greek  teacher  an  Irish  gentleman  not  of  the 
old  school.  I  remember  almost  with  shame  how  we  would 
torment  the  poor  man.  He  had  no  hold  on  us,  and  we 
did  not  respect  him,  and  when  that  is  the  case,  boys  can 
be — what  can't  they  be  ?  Sometimes  we  would  work  him 
into  such  a  rage  that  he  threatened  to  cane  us.  I  think 
if  he  had  he  would  probably  have  had  a  fight  on  his 
hands,  although  we  richly  deserved  a  caning.  He  went 
gravely  to  Mr.  Hutson  one  day  and  demanded  the  right 
to  thrash  us,  saying,  in  England  boys  older  than  we  were 
thrashed.  Mr.  Hutson  told  him  if  he  thought  he  could 
do  it  to  go  ahead,  but  he  cautioned  him  that  these  Ameri- 
can boys  were  not  English  boys,  and  it  would  be  well  for 
him  to  insure  his  life  before  he  attempted  the  castigation. 
He  never  tried  it.  Mr.  Hutson  heard  of  some  of  our 
pranks  and  took  measures  to  stop  them  by  administering 
punishment  in  his  own  way.  But  he  did  not  keep  that 
teacher  long,  and  his  successor  was  a  different  man,  and 
never  had  any  trouble  with  the  same  boys. 

It  requires  much  wisdom  and    more   grace  to  be  a 


A  Wise  Schoolmaster.  35 


teacher,  but  all  the  faults  of  a  schoolhouse  are  not  found 
behind  the  desks.  It  is  a  pity  that  many  who  are  unfit 
take  up  the  noble  profession,  and  it  is  a  greater  pity  that 
so  many  children  have  to  suffer  from  their  deficiencies. 

At  Mount  Zion  College  we  had  what  was  for  those  days 
a  good  laboratory  and  a  full  supply  of  apparatus.  Chem- 
istry and  physics  were  Mr.  Hutson's  forte  and  hobby,  and 
I  devoted  much  time  in  his  department.  I  preferred 
these  to  all  other  branches,  and  often  have  wondered  how 
it  was  I  did  not  follow  them  up,  for  if  I  had  then  any 
talent  at  all  it  ran  in  that  line.  Some  of  us  would  follow 
Mr.  Hutson  into  the  laboratory  after  school  hours,  and 
the  old  gentleman,  as  we  thought  him,  but  he  was  not 
old,  would  give  himself  and  his  time  to  us.  I  think  he 
was  partial  to  such  boys  ;  he  certainly  was  very  kind  to 
them,  and  we  all  loved  him,  and  some  of  us  would  leave 
play  and  everything  to  get  the  lessons  he  set  us.  If  we 
found  them  too  long  we  would  perfect  ourselves  as  far  as 
we  could  and  then  tell  him  we  were  not  prepared  on  the 
rest.  Sometimes  he  would  say,  "  I  did  not  expect  so  much  ; 
I  only  gave  yo\x  that  to  try  you."  He  had  our  affection, 
and  I  think  that  it  was  more  to  please  him  than  to  get  in- 
formation that  a  few  of  us  were  quite  studious. 

Mr.  Hutson  allowed  the  boys  to  play  cards  provided 
we  did  it  openly  and  without  gambling  ;  consequently 
there  was  very  little  gambling  in  the  school. 

One  incident  I  still  recall.  I  was  playing  whist  one 
Saturday  out  in  the  yard,  under  a  large  oak  tree.  The 
boys  had  heard  me  say  I  never  had  played,  and  I  never 
would  play,  cards  for  anything  beyond  amusement,  and 
this  day  they  put  up  a  trick  on  me,  and  after  we  got  into 
the  game,  I  discovered  we  were  playing  for  a  blackberry- 
pie.  I  went  on  and  played  the  game  out  and  lost,  and 
the  blackberry-pie  was  bought  from  the  old  woman  who 
was  loitering  around  to  beguile  the  dimes  from  the  boys 


36  Led  On  I 


by  her  digestion-ruiners.  The  pie  was  cut  into  four  and 
my  portion  handed  to  me.  I  declined,  saying  it  was  the 
first  and  it  would  be  the  last  act  of  gambling  in  my  life; 
and  it  has  been  so.  I  have  always  had  an  instinctive 
horror  of  the  vice.  I  never  bought  or  held  a  lottery 
ticket,  and  have  studiously  avoided  even  a  chance  at  the 
rafiSes  which  I  think  disgrace  church  fairs.  Fairs,  rafiles, 
grab-bags,  post-ofl&ces,  dances  for  raising  church  funds,  I 
have  always  held  as  abominations,  and  travesties  on  re- 
ligion and  charity.* 

I  remained  at  Winnsborough  from  June  5,  1844,  until 
October  4,  1845.  During  that  time  I  never  took  part  in 
any  of  the  mischief  in  which  many  of  the  boys  engaged 
except  on  one  occasion.  From  some  cause  or  other,  my 
chum  and  I  agreed  to  go  out  one  Friday  night  and  have 
some  fun.  We  turned  our  coats  wrong  side  out,  mashed 
in  our  hats,  and  went  after  this  imaginary  fun.  Four 
main  roads  crossing  each  other  at  right  angles  formed  the 
approaches  into  the  town  from  the  surrounding  country. 
Cotton  fields  surrounded  the  town  and  came  down  to  its 
limits.  A  high  fence  enclosed  them,  and  we  two  boys 
pulled  down  this  fence  and  turned  it  across  the  road,  and 
joined  the  two  side  fences,  completely  blocking  it.     We 

*  Only  once  in  my  life  have  I  taken  a  chance  at  a  raffle.  Acci- 
dentally I  found  one  day  that  a  parishioner,  driven  to  great  straits 
as  the  result  of  the  civil  war,  had  given  her  silver  forks  and  spoons 
to  be  raffled.  They  were  very  massive  and  handsome,  and  often  in 
her  husband's  lifetime  (he  was  an  intimate  friend),  I  had  used 
that  silver  at  their  table.  I  knew  what  it  had  cost  her  to  make 
that  sacrifice.  Twelve  chances  being  still  open  at  |2.oo  a  chance, 
I  subscribed  for  all  of  them.  I  requested  the  man  in  charge  to 
cast  the  dice  for  me,  and  if  either  of  my  chances  won  to  send  the 
raffled  articles  back  to  the  lady  with  all  the  money,  and  to  say 
they  were  returned  by  the  winner  on  condition  that  they  should 
never  be  raffled  again.  A  man  who  had  only  one  chance  won,  so 
my  good  intentions  were  frustrated. 


A  Wise  Schoohnaster.  2>7 


piled  the  rails  one  on  the  other  in  the  Virginia  worm- 
fence  style,  and  put  the  "  rider  "  on.  It  was  most  labori- 
ous work,  but  we  went  from  one  road  to  the  other  until  we 
had  all  four  blocked.  We  then  entered  the  town,  and 
finding  a  light  wagon  in  a  yard,  we  drew  it  to  the  front 
door  of  a  large  girls'  school,  and  by  great  effort  got  the 
hind  wheels  up  against  the  door.  We  then  went  off  quite 
innocently  and  waited  till  morning  for  the  explosion. 

No  one  was  in  our  secret  and  not  the  slightest  suspicion 
rested  on  us,  and  next  day  we  strolled  down-town  expect- 
ing to  hear  ourselves  well  abused,  and  to  listen  to  various 
threats  against  the  perpetrators  of  the  outrage  ;  but  we 
waited  all  day  in  vain.  Not  a  word  or  comment.  We 
found  out  that  some  countrymen  coming  in  with  cotton, 
had  discovered  the  obstruction,  and  supposing  it  to  be  the 
work  of  some  mischievous  boys,  pulled  the  fences  down 
and  passed  through  the  town  without  saying  a  word  about 
it.  Even  the  owners  of  the  fields  that  we  had  exposed, 
by  taking  down  the  fences,  made  no  disturbance,  and  so 
we  had  all  our  trouble  for  nothing.  It  was  a  silly  thing, 
but  it  was  our  first  and  last  escapade. 

I  must  relate  another  incident  of  these  days.  One 
Friday  night,  two  friends  from  town  came  up  to  get  my 
chum  and  myself  to  go  to  their  office  and  play  whist. 
They  were  grown-up  men,  law3^ers  by  profession.  From 
■early  youth  I  had  always  sought  my  friends  among  those 
who  were  older  than  myself,  and  these  two  gentlemen 
soon  after  my  coming  to  Winnsborough  had  taken  me 
under  their  wing.  When  they  came  for  us  that  evening 
I  went  up  into  Mr.  Hutson's  study  to  get  permission. 
He  had  retired,  so  I  wrote  a  note  and  put  it  on  his  desk 
telling  him  whom  we  had  gone  with,  where  we  could  be 
found,  what  we  would  be  doing,  and  adding  that  we 
would  return  at  eleven  o'clock.  Going  down  stairs,  the 
four  of  us  walked  with  as  much  noise  as  we  covdd  make 


38  Led  On  / 

so  as  to  attract  attention,  went  down- town,  and  came  in 
punctually  at  eleven  o'clock,  to  find  the  door  locked.  We 
went  to  the  other  door  of  the  landing  which  was  always 
open,  and  that,  too,  was  locked.  We  were  sure  the  bo3's 
had  done  it,  so  we  tried  one  window  after  another,  and  all 
were  fastened  down.  We  then  realized  that  it  was  not 
the  work  of  the  boys,  and  that  old  J.,  as  we  fondly  called 
Mr.  Hutson,  had  done  it.     We  were  nonplussed. 

We  sat  on  the  steps  and  were  not  complimentary  to 
Mr.  Hutson.  My  note  was  on  his  table,  we  had  done 
nothing  secretly,  and  we  thought  our  treatment  very 
mean.  Neither  of  us  used  profane  language.  (I  never 
used  an  oath  intentionally  but  once  ;  I  was  then  a  small 
boy  ;  the  evil  word  slipped  out,  and  I  was  so  ashamed  of 
it,  that  I  left  the  playground  and  I  went  and  told  my 
mother.  The  ungentlemanliness  of  profanity  was  suffi- 
cient without  the  sin  of  it  to  give  me  an  abhorrence  of  it. 
And  I  can  say,  with  no  mental  reservation,  in  all  these  my 
sixty-nine  years,  that  was  the  only  time  I  ever  intention- 
ally cursed.)  But  we  did  not  say  pretty  things  about  Mr. 
Hutson. 

After  a  time  I  remembered  that  some  quarter  of  a  mile 
oflf  in  the  woods  I  had  seen  a  long  ladder,  and  I  suggested 
to  Harrington  that  we  should  get  it  and  put  it  up  to  the 
second  story  to  John  Robinson's  room  window  and  thus 
show  Mr.  Hutson  whether  he  could  bar  us  out  or  not. 
So  we  went  and  got  it.  It  was  a  heavy  tug,  but  at  last 
we  got  back  and  put  it  up  to  the  window,  and  I,  being  the 
lightest,  went  up  and  waked  Robinson.  I  scared  him  out 
of  his  wits,  but  got  the  sash  raised  at  last.  Meanwhile  I 
had  noticed  a  white  object  far  back  in  the  dark,  and 
thought  it  was  Robinson's  shirt.  I  told  Robinson  old  J. 
had  locked  us  out  but  we  meant  to  show  him  we  could 
get  in.  Now  Mr.  Hutson  had  a  singularly  musical  voice, 
and  from  that  white  spot  came  that  voice. 


A   Wise  Schoolmaster,  39 


"  Yes,  Mr.  Porter,"  he  said,  "  and  if  you  will  go  to  the 
proper  entrance  you  will  be  admitted. ' ' 

As  I  have  said,  he  was  a  large  man,  and  he  wore  his 
vests  low  and  exposed  a  broad  shirt-bosom,  and  it  was 
this  I  had  seen,  little  dreaming  it  was  Mr.  Hutson  him- 
self. 

I  slid  down  the  ladder,  alarming  Harrington.  "  What 
is  the  matter  ?  "  he  said  ;  "are  you  hurt  ?  "  "  No,"  I 
replied,  "  worse  than  hurt  ;  old  J.  is  at  the  top  of  the 
ladder  ;  he  has  heard  every  word  we  have  said,  and  we 
shall  be  sent  home  to-morrow. ' ' 

He  had  indeed  been  listening,  and  was  just  about  to 
open  the  door  when  he  heard  my  proposition  to  get  the 
ladder.  He  was  the  soul  of  humor,  and  he  could  not  re- 
sist the  joke  of  letting  us  go  to  all  that  trouble  ;  he  had 
waited  for  us,  had  seen  us  come  with  the  ladder,  and  fol- 
lowed us  to  Robinson's  room. 

When  we  got  to  the  door  it  was  open,  and  all  that  Mr. 
Hutson  said  was  :  "  Young  gentlemen,  if  I  had  known 
who  it  was  that  had  gone  out  I  would  not  have  locked  the 
door." 

We  went  to  our  room,  but  not  to  bed.  We  did  not  lie 
down  that  night.  There  was  so  much  confidence  implied 
in  his  remark,  and  to  think  that  we  seemed  to  have  be- 
trayed it  !  We  could  not  make  out  why  my  note  had  not 
informed  him.     We  were  two  miserable  youths. 

The  next  morning  at  half-past  six  we  went  up  and  said 
our  lesson  in  Ancient  Geography  ;  Mr.  Hutson  was  as 
kind  as  ever,  perhaps  a  little  more  so.  Sunday  passed, 
and  Monday,  and  still  no  word  of  reproof.  Tuesday 
morning,  we  came  out  of  the  classroom,  following  old  J. 
as  he  mounted  the  stairs.  As  spokesman,  I  asked  a  word 
with  him.     He  stopped,  and  said  "  Certainly." 

"  We  wish  to  go  home,  sir,"  I  said. 
"  For  what  ?  "  he  asked. 


40  Led  Oji  / 

"  We  have  apparently  trespassed  on  your  confidence, 
though  I  had  written  you  a  note,  and  neither  of  us  wish 
to  stay  when  confidence  is  gone." 

*  *  Who  says  you  have  lost  my  confidence  ?  ' ' 

"  Why,  you  said,  sir,  had  you  known  who  had  gone 
out,  you  would  not  have  locked  the  door  ;  intimating  you 
did  not  think  we  would  ever  go  out  without  permission." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  repeat  it.  I  did  not  get  your  note 
until  the  morning.  I  had  gone  to  bed  with  a  headache. 
I  had  got  wind  of  a  contemplated  raid  on  a  watermelon- 
patch,  and  I  thought  the  boys  engaged  in  it  had  taken 
advantage  of  my  indisposition  and  had  gone  out.  The 
noise  you  made  woke  me  up,  and  thinking  the  crowd  had 
escaped,  I  took  that  method  of  locking  the  doors  and  fast- 
ening the  windows  to  catch  them,  but  if  I  had  known  it 
was  only  you  two,  I  should  have  felt  sure  that  it  was  all 
right.  To  show  you  how  far  you  have  lost  my  confidence, 
Mr.  Harrington  and  yourself  may  go  out  any  night  and 
every  night,  and  stay  out  as  long  as  you  like,  and  you 
need  not  ask  any  further  permission."  And  with  that 
he  left  us. 

Mr.  Hutson  knew  that  neither  of  us  would  avail  our- 
selves of  this  comprehensive  permit,  and  he  was  safe  in 
offering  it.  In  fact  from  that  day  till  the  day  I  left, 
neither  of  us  ever  left  those  grounds  until  we  were  sure 
Mr.  Hutson  knew  all  about  it  and  had  given  his  consent. 
But  the  dear  old  man  paid  us  off.  He  knew  that  both  of 
us  visited  a  number  of  young  ladies,  and  he  went  round 
and  told  each  of  them  the  whole  story,  with  some  embel- 
lishments, and  whenever  we  went  out  those  girls  would 
give  it  to  us,  with  their  additions  and  comments,  until  we 
had  to  threaten  that  we  would  cease  visiting  them.  This 
won  a  respite,  for  our  friends  did  not  desire  our  visits  dis- 
continued. 

Many  years  after  I  had  left  school  I  went  to  visit  Mr. 


A  Wise  Schoolmaster,  41 


Hutson  in  Winnsborough,  and  we  talked  over  old  times. 
He  had  not  forgotten  the  occurrence,  and  he  chuckled 
over  it,  and  pictured  the  ladder-scene  to  perfection.  Of 
that  lesson  hundreds  of  boys  have  derived  the  benefit.  I 
felt  the  power  of  confidence,  and  have  cultivated  it  during 
the  thirty  years  in  which  I  myself  have  been  at  the  head 
of  a  great  institution  for  boys.  I  always  trust  a  boy  ;  I 
take  his  word  and  allow  no  one  to  question  it.  When 
he  proves  himself  unworthy  of  confidence,  then  I  send 
him  off.  But  there  are  comparatively  few  boys  who  will 
not  respond  to  confidence.  Boys  are  sometimes  surprised 
at  the  confidence  I  put  in  them.  Evidently  they  have  not 
been  reared  that  way  at  home,  which  is  a  sad  pity  for  the 
bo}^,  and  for  the  home. 


CHAPTER  V 

FIRST  LOVE  AND  ITS   CONSEQUENCES 

How  I  tnade  good  use  of  7?ty  time — First  love —  The  course 
never  runs  smooth — /  enter  upo7i  a  business  career —  Work 
without  pay — My  first  coni77ni7iion — /  rebuke  ribaldry — / 
reyiew  my  suit  ajid  a77i  rebuffed — A  S7iake  i7i  the  grass — 
/  show  7nyself  a  nie77tber  of  the  Church  milita7it — The 
perils  of  conviviality — The  horrors  of  a  slave  sale. 


I  WAS  now  in  my  seventeenth  j^ear,  and  in  more  than 
one  sense  had  made  good  use  of  the  months  I  had 
been  at  Mount  Zion  College.  This  will  be  seen  from  the 
sequel,  which  it  is  necessary  to  refer  to  in  order  to  ex- 
plain the  sequel  of  my  life. 

There  were  fourteen  beautiful  girls  in  Winnsborough, 
any  one  of  whom  was  calculated  to  make  a  sensation  in 
any  society,  and  to  make  a  susceptible  young  fellow's 
heart  beat  quicker  at  the  sight  of  her.  For  some  little 
time  I  flitted  around,  but  gradually  was  drawn  to  one 
particular  house,  that  of  Miss  B. ,  a  universal  belle,  who 
had  all  the  older  men  at  her  feet.  She  was  a  lovely  wo- 
man, and  very  kind  to  me.  I  looked  up  to  her  as  an  older 
sister;  but  she  had  a  younger  sister  just  my  age.  At  that 
time  I  thought  this  latter  the  handsomest  woman  in  the 
world.  I  have  seen  many  women  since  those  days,  but 
none  have  ever  effaced  the  impress  of  that  face.     Her 

42 


First  Love  and  Its  Consequences.  43 

figure  and  her  carriage  were  grace  and  dignity  itself.     Her 
manners  were  charming,  her  mind  bright,  and  her  dispo- 
sition equal  to  her  external  appearance.     Is  it  any  wonder 
that  I  was  soon  deeply  in  love  ?     I  thought  of  her  by  day 
and  dreamed  of  her  by  night.     She  was  indeed  a  boy's 
ideal.     Some  persons  laugh  at  a  boy's  love — puppy  love 
they  call  it.     But  I  know  one  boy  that  loved  as  really, 
and  deeply,  and  holily  as  man  ever  loved.     All  my  spare 
evenings  were  spent  with  her;  we  walked  together,  and 
read  together,  went  to  church  together.     Her  mother  was 
a  Methodist,  but  I  did  not  care  much  about  the  Methodists; 
did  not  enjoy  the  preaching  ;  service  there  was  little,  or 
none.     I  did,  however,  care  about  Miss  B.,  and  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  be  in  the  same  building,  and  to  have  her  sitting 
in  the  opposite  pew  or  bench,  and  to  walk  home  with  her 
after  the  exercises  were  over.     And  so  things  went  on.     I 
thought  then,  and  think  still,  that  I  had  a  good  deal  to  sat- 
isfy me,  that  my  attentions  were  understood  and  were  not 
unpleasant  to  her  or  to  any  member  of  the  family.     In  the 
month  of  September,  1845,  the  24th,  I  could  restrain  my- 
self no  longer,  and  on  one  of  those  occasions  that  present 
themselves  under  such  circumstances,  I  gave  utterance  to 
language,  to  feelings,  which  for  months  had  been  declared 
in  actions.     It  was  met  evasively  and  disappointingly  ;  I 
was  not  rejected,   but  I  was  not  accepted.     I  was  left 
miserable.     I  had  given  my  whole  heart  so  entirely  that 
I  wanted  one  in  return.     I  left  the  house  that  night  and  a 
veil  was  over  all  nature  ;  nothing  looked  or  seemed  to  be 
as  it  had  been  before.     A  few  days  after,  my  good  Samari- 
tan, Miss  B.,  went  to  walk  with  me,  and  told  me  I  was  a 
silly  boy  ;  it  was  all  right,  but  that  we  were  too  young  to 
enter  into  an  engagement.     Neither  of  us  had  seen  any 
thing  of  the  world,  and  it  might  be  a  delusion,  and  it 
would  be  unjust  to  both  of  us  to  bind  ourselves  by  a  word 
we  might  wish  to  break.     It  was  consoling  but  not  satis- 


44  ^^^  ^^  • 

fying  to  an  ardent  boy.     I  was  a  boy  in  years  but  cir- 
cumstances had  matured  me.     I  liave  seen  many  a  man 
at  twenty-two  who  was  much  more  of  a  boy  than  I  was 
at  seventeen.     This  check  turned  the  whole  current  of  my 
life.     I  wrote  my  mother  that  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  would  not  go  to  college.     Since  for  a  long  time  I 
had  been  the  only  male  in  the  family,  I  had  assumed  its 
headship,  and  what  I  wished  to  have  done  was  usually 
agreed  upon.     I  intended  to  go  to  rice  planting  after  pass- 
ing through  college,  and  I  now  urged  as  an  excuse  that  I 
had  noticed  that  few  planters  were  business  men,  and  as  I 
wished  to  succeed  when  I  went  to  planting,  I  thought  a 
business  training  would  be  of  greater  advantage  than  a 
collegiate  course.     This  was  true,   but  the  real  reason 
was,  I  was  so  desperately  in  love  that  I  could  not  stay  in 
the  small  village  with  the  object  of  my  attachment  and 
see  her  every  day  and  yet  not  be  her  accepted  suitor.     I 
was  young,  and  I  fear  somewhat  self-willed  ;  still  it  was  a 
pure,  honest,  earnest  love  that  pervaded  my  whole  being. 
My  mother  consented  to  my  leaving  school,   and  very 
easily  procured  a  position  for  me  in  the  counting-house 
of  Messrs.  Robertson  &  Blacklock,  of   Charleston,   the 
largest  rice  house  at  that  time,  probably,  in  the  world.     In 
after  years  I  have  often  felt  the  need,  and  the  want,  of  a 
collegiate  training,  and  sometimes  have  seriously  regretted 
that  I  was  turned  aside  from  college  ;  still  the  ways  of 
Providence  are  not  ours.     If  I  had  not  received  that  three 
years'  business  training,  I  never  could  have  carried  on 
the  work  assigned  to  me  in  after  years  by  the  Providence 
of  God,  and  which  has  required  much  business  knowledge 
and  acquaintance  with  finance  to  carry  out. 

On  the  3d  of  October,  1845,  I  accordingly  bade  farewell 
to  school,  to  Winnsborough,  and  to  Miss  B.  But  I  left 
one  whom  I  thought  I  could  trust  to  look  after  my  inter- 
ests, and  to  keep  me  informed  if  anyone  else  was  going 


First  Love  and  Its  Consequences.  45 

to  see  her  too  often  for  my  happiness  ;  determining  to  re- 
turn to  Winnsborough,  if  that  was  the  case,  and  to  press 
my  suit.  I  arrived  in  Charleston  on  the  5th,  and  on  the 
8th  of  October  presented  myself  to  the  members  of  the 
firm.  Mr.  Robertson  was  quite  dignified,  and  somewhat 
stern.  His  first  remark  was  :  "  Well,  sir,  what  sort  of  a 
clerk  are  you  going  to  be  ;  will  you  attend  to  business,  or 
spend  your  time  in  King  Street  (the  shopping  street) 
walking  with  the  girls  ?  " 

Mr.  Blacklock  did  not  give  me  time  to  answer,  but 
quickly  said,  ''  I  do  not  think  that  is  a  fair  question,  nor 
a  cheerful  greeting  to  our  young  friend.  The  proof  of  the 
pudding  is  in  the  eating.  And  I  think  it  would  be  well 
to  allow  him  the  opportunity  to  decide  what  kind  of  a 
clerk  he  will  be.  He  comes  to  us  with  such  commenda- 
tions that  I  expect  entire  satisfaction  in  taking  him  ;  I 
should  like  to  have  him  with  me  in  my  department. ' ' 

My  heart  went  out  to  Mr.  Blacklock  at  once,  and  I 
never  had  cause  to  take  it  back.  I  took  no  notice  of  Mr. 
Robertson's  remark,  but  said  to  Mr.  Blacklock,  *' You 
shall  have  no  reason  to  be  disappointed  in  me,  sir." 

I  was  to  be  paid  no  salary,  and  I  never  received  a  penny 
from  the  firm.  They  knew  I  did  not  need  anything  for 
my  support,  but  I  have  often  thought  they  made  a  great 
mistake.  It  was  a  very  rich  house,  and  as  after  events 
proved,  I  did  not  disappoint  them,  and  I  think  it  would 
have  added  some  pleasure  and  zest  to  my  work  if  I  had 
received  a  due  compensation  ;  but  never  so  much  as  a 
theatre  ticket  was  given  me  in  three  years. 

This  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  returned  to  the  low- 
country  since  I  left  it  in  June,  1844,  and  I  had  nothing  to 
draw  me  to  the  Holy  Communion  in  Winnsborough,  but 
as  soon  as  I  arrived  I  wrote  to  Rev.  Mr.  Howard,  rector 
in  Georgetown,  informing  him  of  my  intention  to  make 
my  first  communion  on  Christmas  Day,  1845.     There  was, 


46  Led  On  I 


in  fact,  nothing  in  my  life  to  prevent  my  coming  forward. 
My  disappointment  in  love  had  in  no  wise  caused  me  to 
forget  my  duty  to  my  Saviour,  though  I  loved  with  the 
intensity  of  an  ardent  nature.  No  woman  living  could 
force  me  to  forget  my  obligations  to  myself  and  to  my 
God,  and  I  did  not  make  a  fool  of  myself  So  on  the  25th 
of  December,  1845,  I  received  the  emblems  of  the  broken 
body  and  outpoured  blood  of  Him  who  had  died  for  me. 
I  am  now  nearly  sixty-nine  years  old,  and  in  all  these 
years  I  have  never  but  once  left  the  church  and  turned 
my  back  upon  this  evidence  of  transcendent  love. 

My  mother,  my  two  sisters,  and  self,  received  together 
at  my  first  communion.  On  my  return  to  Charleston, 
in  January,  1846,  I  offered  myself  to  the  rector  of  St. 
Michael's  Church,  as  a  Sunday-school  teacher,  and  con- 
tinued to  be  one  for  four  years.  I  am  often  amused  in 
these  latter  days  to  hear  young  men  excuse  themselves  for 
lying  in  bed  on  Sunday  morning  too  late  for  church  by 
saying  that  they  work  so  hard.  I  know  I  used  to  be  on 
the  wharf  at  seven  o'clock  every  morning,  and  stay  at  the 
counting-house  every  night  till  ten,  and  sometimes  eleven, 
o'clock  at  work,  but  I  never  found  myself  too  tired  to  be 
at  my  class  in  Sunday-school  at  half-past  nine  in  the 
forenoon. 

Here  let  me  illustrate  the  changes  in  church  matters. 
I  was  the  j^oungest  and  only  young  male  communicant  in 
that  old  parish.  I  heard  afterwards  that  I  was  known  by 
the  old  ladies  as  the  3^oung  disciple.  The  next  in  age  to 
me  was  Mr.  W.  C.  Courtney,  who  was  just  ten  3'ears  my 
senior.  It  is  not  so  now,  thank  God.  Then  the  clergy 
wore  black  gowns  to  preach  in,  with  long  white  bands 
around  their  necks.  Men  did  not  kneel  in  church  ;  it 
was  very  funny  to  see  them  come  in  and  put  their  faces 
into  their  beaver  hats,  for  a  second  or  two,  to  say  a  pre- 
paratory prayer,  I  suppose.     The  offerings  were  taken  up 


First  Love  and  Its  Consequences.  47 

in  the  hats  of  the  wardens  and  vestry,  standing  by  each 
door  with  a  white  pocket-handkerchief  thrown  over  the 
hat.  When  a  corpse  was  taken  up  the  aisle,  all  the  pall- 
bearers made  a  table  of  the  coffin  and  put  their  hats  on  it. 
The  Te  Deum  and  the  Gloria  in  Excelsis  were  always 
read.  The  first  time  the  Te  Deum  was  sung  at  Saint 
Michael's  Church,  I  remember  the  commotion  was  so 
great  that  one  might  have  thought  the  whole  of  St. 
Michael's  Church,  steeple  and  all,  had  gone  bodily  into 
the  Church  of  Rome.  The  Gloria  Patri  was  never  used 
till  the  last  psalm  for  the  day  ;  then  it  was  read.  It  was 
ver>^  bad  manners  to  join  in  the  h3'mn,  and  to  respond  to 
the  service  w^as  vulgar.  One  wonders  how  the  Episcopal 
Church  ever  survived  such  misuse  of  its  liturgy  and 
neglect  of  its  privileges.  The  Holy  Communion  was  ad- 
ministered (to  have  spoken  of  a  celebration  would  have 
been  heresy)  on  the  first  Sunday  of  the  month,  and  the 
whole  congregation  left,  save  a  small  remnant  of  dear  old 
ladies,  and  some  decrepit  men.  Occasionally  a  curiosity 
like  Mr.  Courtney  and  myself  stayed  back,  the  congrega- 
tion departing  with  the  major  benediction.  It  is  all 
changed  now,  as  everybody  knows,  but,  oh,  what  a  fight 
it  has  been  ! 

I  soon  found  out  what  my  work  was  to  be  in  the 
counting-house.  Mr.  Blacklock  was  king  of  the  rice 
market  ;  until  he  came  and  fixed  the  price  no  one 
thought  of  offering  to  buy  or  to  sell.  Before  he  came 
down  to  the  office  my  duty  was  to  go  to  all  the  wharv^es 
at  which  rice  vessels  lay,  and  have  two  barrels  of  each 
brand  of  rice  taken  from  the  vessel  and  headed  up  ready 
for  the  king.  As  he  arrived  at  the  office,  I  gathered  up 
my  bundle  of  old  shot-bags  with  strings  in  them,  and 
sallied  down  to  the  wharf,  with  my  coopers  all  ready.  As 
soon  as  Mr.  Blacklock  put  in  an  appearance,  outwent  the 
heads  of  the  barrels  ;  I  then  filled  my  sample-bags,   left 


48  Led  On  ! 

him,  went  to  the  ofl&ce,  spread  them  out  on  newspapers, 
marked  the  brand  on  the  margin  of  the  paper,  and 
waited  for  orders.  Any  lot  designated  as  sold  was 
rolled  out  of  the  vessel,  weighed  and  delivered,  after  I 
had  taken  the  weights  of  the  barrels  in  my  book.  I  then 
returned  to  the  counting-house  to  make  out  and  deliver 
the  bills  for  distribution  before  nine  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, which  was  done  by  another  clerk.  My  firm  did  an 
immense  business,  and  often  I  have  gone  home  so  tired 
that  I  would  fall  asleep  in  my  chair  before  a  cup  of  tea 
could  be  got  for  me.  And  this  went  on  from  October  to 
the  middle  of  April,  for  three  years. 

In  summer  we  had  very  little  to  do.  Mr.  Blacklock 
was  very  kind  to  me,  and  kept  me  with  him  all  the  time. 

A  part  of  my  duty  for  the  first  year  was  to  go  to  the 
post-office,  after  getting  my  sample  barrels  ready,  and  to 
get  the  mail  from  the  firm's  private  box.  Quite  a  number 
of  youths  of  my  own  sphere  of  life  would  gather  there, 
also  waiting  for  their  employers'  mail.  Sometimes  the 
conversation  was  not  edifying,  and  on  one  occasion  a  cer- 
tain youth  began  to  tell  an  exceptionally  disgusting  story. 
I  stopped  him,  calling  him  by  name,  and  said,  ' '  One  of 
two  things — you  know  that  I  am  a  communicant  of  the 
Church,  and  you  take  this  method  of  telling  me  that  I  am 
a  hypocrite,  and  I  must  be  if  your  language  is  enjoyable 
to  me  ;  or,  not  wishing  to  insult  me,  you  take  this  method 
of  driving  me  out  of  the  company." 

' '  Dear  fellow, ' '  he  replied,  ' '  neither.  It  is  so  seldom 
that  one  of  your  age  is  a  communicant  that  I  did  not 
know  it,  and  I  apologize,  and  will  never  repeat  this, ' '  and 
he  never  did.  All  the  other  boys  said  they  liked  to  see  a 
man  show  his  colors,  and  promised  that  I  should  not  be 
offended  in  this  way  again.  If  at  any  time  I  came  up  to 
them  and  anything  improper  was  going  on,  at  once 
someone  would  say,  "  Come,  fellows,  let  's  change  this 


First  Love  and  Its  Consequences,  49 

conversation.  Porter  does  not  like  it. "  I  mention  these 
incidents,  which  are  true,  hoping,  if  ever  this  story  of  a  life 
gets  into  print  and  is  read,  they  may  have  some  influence 
for  good. 

I  had  been  receiving  very  favorable  reports  from  my 
supposed  friend  in  Winnsborough,  when  one  day  I  heard, 
in  the  month  of  February,  that  Miss  B.  had  come  to 
Charleston  to  go  to  school  to  Madame  Du  Pree,  the 
fashionable  girls'  school  of  the  day.  I  am  afraid  that  I 
got  the  samples  somewhat  mixed  that  day.  I  found  out 
that  young  gentlemen  were  permitted  to  call  on  the  young 
ladies  at  that  school  on  Saturday,  provided  they  went  in 
the  morning.  So  the  first  Saturday  I  asked  for  leave  for 
a  short  while,  got  myself  up  in  the  best  style,  and  called. 
In  due  time  Miss  B.  came  in,  beautiful  as  a  sunbeam,  but 
she  met  me  like  an  iceberg.  She  was  the  lady — she  could 
not  possibly  be  anything  else — but  oh,  how  cold!  She 
froze  me  up.  I  tried  to  be  agreeable,  but  thoughts  and 
feelings  were  paralyzed.  I  did  not  make  a  long  visit,  and 
as  I  went  down  those  steps,  the  thought  of  how  we  had 
parted  and  the  fact  of  how  we  had  met  put  me  in  a  rage. 
I  knew  I  had  done  nothing  to  merit  this  ;  I  was  her  equal, 
socially  and  financially.  I  had  offered  the  pure  heart  of 
a  pure  life,  and  she  had  disappointed  me.  My  idol  had 
shattered  itself.  I  vowed  that  no  woman  should  ever 
have  the  second  chance  to  treat  me  thus,  and  that  cost  me 
what  it  might  I  would  never  see  her  as  a  girl  again;  and 
I  never  did.  I  even  avoided  the  place  where  she  was, 
and  not  until  1869,  twenty- three  years  afterwards,  when 
the  Protestant  Episcopal  Diocesan  Convention  met  in 
Abbeville,  she  wrote  and  asked  me  to  be  her  guest.  I  ac- 
cepted, and  took  the  opportunity  to  ask  the  meaning  of 
that  morning  at  Madam  Du  Pree's.  She  asked  why  I 
had  never  given  her  the  opportunity  to  explain  ?  I  told 
her,  wounded  pride.     She  had  married,  and  I  had  mar- 


50  Led  On  ! 

ried,  and  both  were  true  in  heart  and  life  to  husband  and 
wife,  but  I  told  her  that  she  had  made  me  almost  a  woman- 
hater;  that  for  three  years,  till  she  married,  there  had 
been  a  lingering  hope  that  the  block  would  be  removed, 
but  I  would  not  seek  to  do  it,  and  after  she  was  married 
it  was  too  late.  But  now,  if  she  could,  I  asked  her  to  re- 
move a  painful  remembrance  which  had  been  with  me  all 
these  years — the  remembrance  of  a  bitter  disappointment 
in  the  character  of  the  woman  I  loved.  She  asked  me  if  I 
remembered  a  person  whom  I  thought  a  friend.  Certainly 
I  did.  Well,  she  said,  he  began  after  I  left  to  visit  at 
her  house  constantly,  and  he  had  the  impudence  to  fall  in 
love  with  her  and  to  address  her,  and  he  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  traduce  me  in  every  way  ;  made  statements  of 
things  which  he  said  I  had  said.  I  said  to  her,  "And 
did  you  believe  him  ?  Did  you  believe  that  I  was  capable 
of  such  things?  "  She  said,  "  I  was  only  a  girl,"  and 
she  asked,  ' '  Have  you  not  known  what  wounded  pride  is  ? 
I  did  not  stop  to  do  you  justice,  but  resented  it.  I  came 
fresh  from  all  these  statements  to  Charleston  ;  you  called. 
I  was  full  of  indignation  and  I  forgot  mj^self  and  showed  it; 
but  long,  long  since  I  have  known  how  you  were  traduced 
and  the  motive  of  it  and  have  wished  for  this  opportunity, 
for  your  course  towards  me  showed  how  deeply  I  had 
wounded  you. ' '  I  thanked  her,  for  it  took  away  that  long- 
kept  sorrow.  And  so  it  appeared  by  falsehood  the  destiny 
of  two  lives,  perhaps,  was  changed.  My  dear  wife  knew 
all  about  this.  I  have  always  had  the  likeness  of  that  girl 
of  seventeen  hanging  in  my  study,  and  many  persons  have 
taken  it  for  the  likeness  of  my  wife,  for  they  were  singu- 
larly alike.  But  when  she  would  say,  "  Why,  that  is  my 
husband's  first  sweetheart,"  and  surprise  would  be  ex- 
pressed that  she  would  permit  it  to  remain  there,  she 
would  say,  * '  I  never  met  her,  but  I  love  that  girl,  for  if  she 
had  married  my  husband  I  could  not  have  done  so,  and  I 


First  Love  and  Its  Conscqtiences.  51 

am  under  great  obligations  to  her. ' '  I  suppose  that  every- 
body has  had  some  romance  in  Hfe.  As  a  married  man 
myself,  and  she  a  married  woman,  there  has  never  been 
one  thought  or  feeling  that  I  believe  would  meet  the  dis- 
approval of  heaven ;  but  the  memory  of  that  holy  love  of 
youth  has  been  with  me  all  my  days,  and  will  be  to  the 
end. 

I  had  a  fair  supply  of  pocket-money,  consequently  had 
a  sufficient  number  of  so-called  friends  to  share  it  with  me. 
There  are  always  a  certain  number  of  youths  whose  home- 
training  is  different  from  what  mine  had  been,  and  their 
moral  natures  not  pitched  on  a  high  plane,  and  there  are 
innumerable  pitfalls  in  the  way  of  3^outh.  I  did  not  find 
my  pathway  exempt  from  them,  and  the  influence  of 
companions  was  not  always  beneficial.  I  remember  on 
one  occasion  I  found  myself  very  dangerously  near  to  the 
point  of  yielding  to  persuasion  to  evil,  but  the  grace  of 
God  was  stronger  than  the  influence  of  the  devil,  and  I 
resolutely  said  no,  and  left  the  party.  I  went  home,  and 
into  my  room,  and  locked  the  door,  and  took  my  Bible 
and  opened  it  at  a  chapter  in  the  Gospel  according  to 
St.  Matthew,  and  knelt  down,  crossed  my  hands  on  the 
Bible,  and  took  a  solemn  vow,  that  I  would  never  gamble 
for  the  value  of  a  pin,  would  never  take  a  drink  in  a 
saloon  or  bar-room.  I  had  never  tasted  anything 
stronger  than  wine,  and  I  would  never  go  to  any  place 
that  I  could  not  ask  my  mother  to  go  with  me,  nor  ever 
be  in  the  company  of  anyone  I  should  be  ashamed  for  her 
to  know  about.  And  I  solemnly  asked  my  Heavenly 
Father  to  record  the  vow,  and  if  I  broke  it  that  He  would 
punish  me  at  once.  I  was  only  eighteen  years  old,  but 
how  often  have  I  thanked  God  for  that  vow  !  I  never  but 
once  had  any  trial  afterwards  to  break  it,  for  I  felt  an  im- 
passable barrier  had  been  placed  between  me  and  the 
common  temptations  of  youth.     That  prayer,  that  God 


52 


Led  On  ! 


would  punisli  me  at  once,  was  a  great  help.  As  I  look 
back  just  fifty  years,  I  know  that  the  vow  of  my  youth 
was  the  best  thing  I  ever  did,  for  by  the  grace  of  God  I 
kept  it  solemnly,  save  on  one  occasion,  and  in  the  training 
of  the  thousands  of  boys  who  have  been  under  my  care  it 
has  been  a  useful  lesson  that  some  have  profited  by. 

About  the  only  amusement  that  I  did  really  enjoy  very 
much  in  Charleston  was  the  theatre.  I  liked  to  dance 
occasionally,  for  I  saw  no  harm  in  it  then  and  see  none 
now.  I  like  to  see  young  people  dance ;  but  the  theatre 
was  almost  a  passion  with  me,  and  whenever  I  could  be 
spared  from  the  office  at  night,  I  would  go  if  the  play  was 
good  and  the  actors  of  the  first  order,  such  as  the  elder 
Booth,  Charles  and  Mrs.  Kean,  Forrest,  and  especially 
Burton,  the  comedian,  who  started  the  audience  in  a  roar 
of  laughter  as  soon  as  he  appeared,  and  kept  them  at  it 
as  long  as  he  was  on  the  stage.  I  admired  also  Mr.  Crisp, 
the  father  of  the  late  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, and  Mrs.  Mowatt,  and  others  whom  I  have  forgot- 
ten.    I  never  missed  a  chance. 

On  one  occasion,  McCready,  the  great  English  trage- 
dian, was  in  Charleston,  and  I  went  every  night.  He 
was  playing  Macbeth,  and  between  two  of  the  acts  I  went 
out  for  a  few  moments.  On  my  return,  as  I  pushed  open 
the  green  baize  door  of  the  foyer,  I  encountered  an  old 
schoolmate,  William  Mazyck,  and  he  accosted  me  with  a 
surprised  expression,  "  Why  !  are  you  here  ?  "  "  Yes," 
I  said,  "  I  am  here,  and  why  not  ?  "  "  Oh,  nothing,  but 
somehow  I  did  not  think  you  ever  came  to  the  theatre." 
I  passed  on  and  took  my  seat.  But  the  pleasure  of  the 
performance  was  for  a  time  spoiled.  "  You  here  ?  You 
here  ?  ' '  kept  ringing  in  my  ears,  and  I  began  to  think 
whether  I  was  doing  anything  wrong.  I  looked  around, 
and  I  saw  a  number  of  very  good  people  at  the  play,  and 
I  argued,  *'  Why  cannot  I  be  here  as  well  as  they  ?  "     As 


First  Love  and  Its  Consegtcences.  53 

the  play  progressed  I  forgot  the  incident  and  soon  was 
lost  in  the  performance.  It  certainly  was  a  great  treat. 
After  I  returned  home,  I  took  my  Bible  to  read  as  usual, 
and  as  I  closed  it  I  was  conscious  that  I  had  been  so 
absorbed  by  McCready's  acting  that  I  had  paid  no 
attention  to  the  lesson,  so  I  read  it  over  again,  and  sud- 
denly ' '  You  here  ?  ' '  rang  in  my  ears. 

I  began  to  think  whether  Mazyck  thought  that  I,  as  a 
Sunday-school  teacher  and  a  communicant,  was  out  of 
place  in  a  theatre.  Perhaps  he  was  himself  troubled,  and 
I  was  a  stumbling-block.  In  myself  I  felt  no  scruples — 
the  play  was  an  education — but  perhaps  he  might  have 
thought  otherwise.  And  at  last  I  got  down  on  my  knees, 
and  there  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  very  little  to  give 
up  for  Christ,  and  if  my  pleasure  brought  any  reproach  on 
Him,  I  would  make  the  sacrifice,  and  would  never  go  to 
the  theatre  again  while  I  was  in  the  counting-house ;  and 
I  never  did,  though  I  was  there  three  years  after  this 
night.     But  the  sacrifice  involved  a  very  great  struggle. 

I  so  disciplined  myself  that  I  never  read  a  word  about 
the  theatre,  what  actors  were  in  the  city,  or  what  play 
was  on  the  stage.  Often,  if  I  had  to  go  anywhere  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  theatre  in  Meeting  Street,  I  would 
go  down  Queen  to  King,  and  up  to  the  market,  and  re- 
turn in  the  same  way.  I  was  afraid  to  trust  myself,  lest 
if  I  passed  the  theatre  and  found  by  the  handbills  some 
good  thing  was  there,  I  would  not  be  able  to  resist.  It 
did  my  character  good,  gave  me  strength  of  will ;  but  I  feel 
sure  it  was  a  sad  mistake,  and  that  my  profession  did  not 
demand  it  of  me. 

I  have  mentioned  that  I  have  never  turned  my  back  on 
the  Lord's  Supper  but  once  in  fifty-one  years.  I  was  per- 
fectly conscious  that  at  Charleston  I  was  living  a  different 
life  from  ordinary  youths,  and  I  have  no  doubt  was  indulg- 
ing a  spirit  of  self-satisfaction,  if  not  of  self-righteousness. 


54  Led  On  ! 

One  Friday  evening,  however,  after  leaving  the  counting- 
house,  I  was  overtaken  in  a  fault  that  I  felt  was  incon- 
sistent with  being  a  communicant  of  the  Church.  Some 
might  have  attached  little  importance  to  it,  but  I  did, 
and  it  troubled  me  very  much  ;  so  that  on  Sunday  when 
the  morning,  service  was  over,  I  came  out,  instead  of  re- 
maining to  communicate.  I  was  very  fond  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Young,  who  was  the  rector,  and  of  Mr.  Keith,  the 
assistant  at  Saint  Michael's,  and  I  ought  to  have  gone  to 
either  of  them  on  Saturday  and  have  told  them  my  fault. 
I  am  quite  sure  either  of  them  would  have  said  to  me, 
' '  You  were  wrong,  but  you  have  done  nothing  heinous  ; 
you  are  truly  sorry  for  it  ;  come  to  the  Holy  Communion 
confessing  your  sins  and  have  the  assurance  of  your 
Father's  forgiveness,  which  we,  as  priests  in  His  Church, 
with  the  authority  of  our  Communion,  declare  to  you  in 
His  name." 

I  was  nineteen  years  old,  and  did  not  know  then  the 
proper  course  ;  but  I  went  home,  and  in  my  room  I  knelt 
down  and  asked  forgiveness,  and  that  by  God's  grace  I 
would  never  again  place  myself  in  such  a  position  as  to 
make  it  questionable  in  my  mind  whether  it  was  right  to 
go  to  the  Holy  Communion. 

Now  Bishop  Gadsden  had  asked  the  rectors  in  Charles- 
ton to  arrange  it  so  that  a  celebration  would  be  held  in 
one  church  in  the  city  every  Sunday.  The  second  I 
knew  was  at  Grace  Church,  so  after  teaching  my  class  at 
St.  Michael's  I  went  there.  I  remained  with  the  com- 
municants, and  waited,  trying  to  know  w^hether  I  was 
doing  right  to  go  to  the  chancel-rail,  and  earnestly  pray- 
ing. I  waited  until  the  last  four  or  five  communicants 
went  up,  hesitating,  until  I  felt  I  must  go.  Little  did  the 
Rev.  Doctor  Spear,  who  was  the  celebrant,  know  what 
was  going  on  in  that  youth's  heart  and  mind,  or  with 
what  calm  and  peace  he  turned  away  after  receiving  those 


First  Love  and  Its  Consequences.  55 

emblems  of  a  Saviour's  love.  I  thanked  God,  and  vowed 
as  I  returned  to  the  seat,  that  I  would  watch  mj'self  more 
carefully,  and  lean  less  on  myself  and  more  on  God's 
grace;  and  at  sixty-nine  years  old  I  am  able  to  say  I  have 
never  since  felt  I  had  no  place  at  the  I^ord's  table,  and 
have  never  again  left  or  refused  to  partake  of  His  body 
and  His  blood.  I  am  trying  to  make  a  faithful  record  of 
my  life,  its  evil  and  its  good.  This  sketch  may  some  time 
or  other  be  read  by  one  w^hose  conscience  troubles  him, 
and  I  trust  that  he  may  be  induced  to  feel  that  it  is  only 
following  the  devil,  who,  if  he  once  gets  the  advantage 
of  us,  or  through  our  own  carnal  w^eakness  we  do  wrong, 
if  he  induces  us  to  stay  away  from  the  communion  once, 
he  will  persuade  us  twice,  and  so  on,  till  he  has  us  in  his 
power.  No,  to  err  is  very  human,  but  go  and  tell  it  to 
some  faithful  priest  of  God  and  get  his  counsel  and  his 
prayers,  and  if  he  is  a  true  man,  he  will  tell  you  to  come 
and  cast  3"Our  burden  on  the  Lord,  and  to  receive  the 
assurance  of  His  pardon  at  His  feast.  I  think,  with  no 
human  counsels,  the  course  I  pursued  was  evidence  that 
I  was  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 

Sometime  after  this  I  was  returning  from  paying  a 
visit  to  my  old  grandaunt  (the  old  lady  who  was  born  on 
the  12th  of  May,  1780),  when,  at  the  corner  of  Hasell 
and  Meeting  Streets,  I  met  a  half-dozen  of  my  young 
companions.  They  wished  to  know  where  I  had  been. 
I  told  them. 

' '  Tell  that  to  the  marines, ' '  they  said  ;  ' '  a  young  fel- 
low like  you  spending  your  evenings  with  an  old  lady." 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  I  do  not  care  whether  you  believe 
it  or  not,  it  is  true." 

' '  And  where  are  you  going  now  ?  " 

' '  Home, ' '  I  said  ;  ' '  w^here  all  of  you  had  better  go. ' ' 

"  No,"  they  said,  '*  we  are  going  to  a  certain  street  and 
you  have  to  go  with  us. ' ' 


56  Led  On  / 


(( 


I  will  not  do  it, "  I  answered. 

A  couple  of  stout  young  fellows  seized  me,  one  on  each 
arm,  and  said,  "  Go  you  shall." 

There  were  too  many  to  resist  without  a  row,  and 
every  one  of  us  was  a  member  of  some  well-known  family, 
so  I  yielded,  apparently,  and  went  along. 

They  thought  they  had  made  an  easy  conquest,  so  let- 
ting me  go,  we  walked  along,  and  I  threw  them  off  their 
guard.  We  got  as  far  as  Saint  Mary's  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  when,  seeing  my  opportunity,  I  made  a  rush 
and,  being  a  very  good  runner,  I  distanced  them,  and  ran 
into  the  Charleston  Hotel. 

There  was  then  a  large  glass  rotunda  in  the  middle  of 
the  hollow  square.  The  boys  came  in  close  behind  me. 
When  in  there  I  turned  on  them  and  said,  *  *  Now  desist, 
or  I  will  expose  you.  I  would  sooner  die  than  go  where 
you  said  you  were  going. ' ' 

I  was  in  a  rage,  for  one  of  the  weaknesses  of  my  nature 
is  a  quick,  high  temper  that  I  have  had  to  battle  with  all 
my  life,  and  it  was  well  up  that  night.  I  remember  say- 
ing, '  *  Try  that  again  and  we  become  strangers  to  each 
other,  and  though  I  never  carry  any  weapon  except  a 
penknife,  I  will  put  it  into  the  first  one  who  attempts  it. ' ' 

They  saw  I  was  in  earnest  and  they  apologized  at  once, 
saying  they  did  not  know  I  was  in  such  dead  earnest  ; 
they  only  meant  to  have  some  fun,  and  thought  that  I 
would  be  like  the  rest  of  them.  The  effect  of  it  was,  we 
all  went  out  into  the  street  together,  and  everyone  of  us 
went  to  his  own  home. 

The  law  required  every  one  sixteen  years  old  to  turn 
out  in  the  militia  companies,  or  to  join  a  fire  company.  I 
chose  the  latter,  and  joined  the  Phoenix  Fire  Company. 
It  was  composed  of  young  men  of  the  best  families  of  the 
city.  We  were  called  the  White  Kid  Company,  but 
dudes  or  not,  we  generally  took  the  prize  as  being  first 


First  Love  and  Its  Consequences.  5  7 

at  fires,  where  we  stayed  the  longest.  The  company  was 
a  social  organization,  and  they  had  a  supper  or  a  punch 
treat  once  a  month.  I  went  now  and  then  at  first,  until 
I  discovered  that  a  dear  young  friend  of  mine  who  was  a 
member  generally  got  under  the  influence  of  the  punch. 
I  then  determined  to  go  to  all  of  them.  In  the  meanwhile, 
having  great  influence  over  my  friend,  I  extracted  a 
promise  from  him  that  he  would  only  drink  as  much  as 
I  did ;  and  he  kept  it.  I  would  help  myself  to  one  glass 
of  punch,  and  make  it  last  through  the  evening,  and  he 
did  the  same.  For  some  time  it  was  pretty  hard  on  him, 
but  he  was  a  true  man  and  kept  his  promise,  and  years 
afterwards  when  we  had  both  gone  to  rice-planting,  he 
said  he  owed  his  being  a  sober  man  to  my  influence.  I 
had  saved  him  at  those  monthly  suppers  of  the  fire  com- 
pany. 

I  was  once  called  upon  to  perform  the  hardest  task 
which  up  to  that  time  had  fallen  to  my  lot.  One  of  the 
many  evils  of  the  institution  of  slavery,  was  the  separa- 
tion of  slave  families  that  would  arise  at  the  death  of  an 
owner,  when  the  estate  had  to  be  divided,  or  the  debts  of 
the  estate  forced  a  sale.  Mr.  Richard  O.  Anderson,  the 
same  gentleman  who  some  sixteen  years  before  had  bought 
my  mother's  slaves,  died,  and  his  negroes  were  all  sold  to 
go  somewhere  in  Georgia. 

They  were  brought  to  Charleston  and  had  to  be  re- 
shipped,  and  I  was  directed  by  Mr.  Robertson  to  go  and 
attend  to  it.  Of  course  I  had  been  too  young  to  know 
any  of  them  when  my  father  owned  them  ;  but  some  of 
the  older  ones,  and  many  of  their  descendants,  were  in 
that  lot  of  slaves.  These  appealed  to  me  as  my  father's 
son  not  to  let  them  go.  Their  entreaties,  that  I  would 
take  them  back  to  the  old  plantation  which  they  knew 
was  still  in  the  family,  and  not  to  allow  the  separation  of 
some  of  the  families,   affected  me  profoundly.      As  the 


58 


Led  On  / 


prospective  heir  of  ah  estate,  with  a  fixed  income,  but 
only  a  minor,  I  was  powerless.  I  did  all  I  could  to  con- 
sole them,  and  made  it  as  easy  as  possible  ;  saw  them  all 
aboard,  and  the  vessel  sailed  for  the  South.  I  went  up 
to  the  counting-house,  and  into  Mr.  Robertson's  private 
office,  the  tears  streaming  down  my  cheeks,  and  I  said, 
*'  Mr.  Robertson,  I  have  done  as  I  was  told  to  do,  but  I 
wish  to  say  it  is  the  first  and  it  is  the  last  of  such  a  job. 
If  I  am  again  required  to  do  such  a  business  as  that,  I  beg 
to  retire  from  the  office  I  hold." 

Mr.  Blacklock  quickly  said,  "I  see  what  it  has  cost 
you,  and  you  never  again  shall  be  required  to  repeat  it." 
And  I  was  not. 


A.    TOOMER    PORTER. 
/CTAT,    19. 


CHAPTER  VI 


MY  LIFE  AS  A  SOUTHERN  PI.ANTER 

A  question  of  Georgian  civilizatioii — /  engage  in  a  dispute 
where  bloodshed  is  just  averted — /  retire  from  business — 
The  life  of  a  Southern  planter — Advantages  of  a  busi- 
ness training — Look  not  upon  the  wine — A  negro  hypo- 
crite—  The  slaves^  view  of  marital  responsibility. 

IN  the  month  of  July,  1846,  my  mother's  health  failed  ; 
so  I  took  a  three  months'  leave  from  the  counting- 
house  and  went  with  her  to  Clarksville,  Georgia,  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  of  the  Tallulah  and  Toccoa  Falls, 
to  which  we  made  many  trips.  There  was  a  pleasant 
party  of  old  friends  taking  the  same  trip — Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Francis  Porcher,  Mrs.  Cuthbert,  Edward  L.  Parker, 
Henry  Blanding,  and  ourselves.  All  of  the  party  save 
myself  are  now  dead. 

One  day  while  staying  at  Clarksville  our  party  visited 
Madison  Springs.  I  was  seated  with  a  party  of  young 
men  on  the  piazza  of  the  local  hotel  after  dinner,  and  in- 
formation was  there  received  that  Judge  Daniel,  of 
Georgia,  had  made  a  brutal  and  murderous  attack  with  a 
knife  on  Alexander  H.  Stephens,  afterwards  Vice-Presi- 
dent of  the  Confederate  States.  Of  course,  this  fracas  was 
the  subject  of  general  comment,  and  I  was  the  only  South 
Carolinian  in  the  crowd. 

59 


6o  Led  On  ! 

I  rather  imprudently  said  to  all  these  Georgians  (most 
of  whom  were  all  about  my  own  age — a  little  over  twenty — 
fortunately  a  few  older  men  being  present),  "  I  am  aston- 
ished at  this  display  of  barbarism  ;  if  a  Circuit  Judge  and 
so  distinguished  a  man  as  Alexander  H.  Stephens  can 
be  engaged  in  a  bloody  fight,  what  could  be  expected  of 
other  men  ;  this,  I  think,  is  a  reflection  on  the  civilization 
of  Georgia  !  " 

Coming  from  a  citizen  of  another  State,  my  words  set 
fire  to  the  crowd,  and  I  found  I  had  a  fight  on  hand. 

I  had  nothing  but  a  penknife,  for  I  have  always  had  a 
contempt  for  the  habit  of  carrying  concealed  weapons,  but 
the  men  angrily  began  to  close  in  on  me.  I  pushed  my 
chair  up  against  the  wall  of  the  house,  satisfied,  however, 
that  my  time  had  come. 

Just  as  one  of  the  young  men,  however,  was  about  to 
attack  me,  one  of  the  older  men  came  forward,  and  getting 
himself  between  us,  put  out  his  hand  and  said,  "  Mr. 
Porter,  I  thank  you  for  the  implied  compliment  to  Georgia. 
You  gave  her  civilization  credit  for  the  impossibility  of 
such  an  occurrence.  You  are  right,  sir,  it  is  a  reflection 
on  our  civilization  ;  it  is  an  outrage. ' '  He  lined  himself 
up  alongside  of  me.  This  was  the  turning  point.  The 
men  ceased  talking.  One  after  another  joined  me  with 
the  gentlemen  who  had  come  to  my  rescue  and  soon  the 
majority  was  on  my  side. 

I  then  apologized  to  all  of  them  for  my  thoughtless- 
ness, while  I  did  not  retract  the  honest  sentiment, 
and  the  whole  party  applauded  me  that  I  had  not 
showed  the  white  feather.  We  soon  became  very  good 
friends.  It  was  a  very  striking  illustration  of  how  a 
mob  can  be  quelled  by  the  courageous  firmness  of  one 
man.  If  that  gentleman  had  not  left  the  crowd,  and 
come  over  to  me  and  said  what  he  did,  I  would  most 
probably  have  been  murdered  in  the  next  ten  minutes. 


My  Life  as  a  Southern  Planter.  6i 

It  also  illustrates  how  careful  a  man  should  be  in  the  use 
of  his  tongue. 

At  the  close  of  the  month  of  August,  mother  and  I  took 
our  seats  in  the  stage,  and  left  Clarksville  for  Greenville, 
South  Carolina.  There  were  no  railroads,  then,  in  all 
that  section  of  country.  The  last  of  September  we  again 
took  the  stage,  a  two  days'  travel  to  Columbia,  South 
Carolina.  This  was  the  summer  of  1 848 .  I  then  returned 
to  Charleston  and  resumed  my  place  in  the  Robertson  & 
Blacklock  counting-house  on  the  ist  of  October.  About 
the  middle  of  December  I  went  to  the  private  office  of  my 
employers  and  told  them  I  would  be  twenty-one  in  six 
weeks,  and  that  I  should  then  enter  on  my  planter's  life, 
and  tendered  to  them  my  resignation  as  clerk  in  their 
employ,  with  many  thanks  for  all  the  kindness  received 
from  them. 

Mr.  Blacklock  said,  * '  We  have  been  expecting  this,  but 
we  do  not  wish  you  to  carry  out  your  intentions. ' ' 

He  added,  "  The  planter's  life  will  never  suit  you  ;  you 
are  a  born  business  man.  I  have  kept  you  constantly 
with  me,  for  you  are  the  only  clerk  I  ever  had  who  took 
so  much  interest  in  the  business,  or  who  gave  me  so  little 
trouble. ' ' 

I  thanked  him  for  his  good  opinion,  but  there  was 
nothing  else  for  me  to  do. 

"  No,"  he  said,  ''  go  and  make  all  your  arrangements, 
and  as  soon  as  you  are  of  age,  sell  your  plantations  and 
negroes,  put  your  money  into  this  firm  and  we  will  make 
you  junior  partner." 

It  was  a  great  surprise,  and,  of  course,  I  was  much 
flattered,  but  I  declined  the  offer,  saying  I  intended  buy- 
ing from  my  sisters  all  their  slaves,  and  reunite  the  estate 
on  the  plantation  where  my  grandfather  had  lived  and 
was  buried. 

He  tried  much  persuasion,  and  told  me  I  was  making 


62  Led  On  ! 


the  mistake  of  my  life,  for  I  would  never  make  a  planter 
of  myself.  I  was  firm,  however.  He  then  said,  ''  Of 
course,  you  are  familiar  with  our  books.  You  know  a 
great  quantity  of  wine  and  brandy  (whiskey  was  not  then 
a  common  drink)  is  sent  into  your  neighborhood.  Take 
my  advice  and  never  take  anything  to  drink  before  din- 
ner, nor  after  dinner,"  and  then  he  added,  that  he  was 
the  sole  survivor  of  all  the  young  men  who  had  gone  into 
business  with  him,  and  whose  habit  it  was  to  go  to  the 
French  coffee-house,  the  fashionable  saloon  of  that  day  in 
Charleston,  South  Carolina,  to  take  a  drink  at  eleven 
o'clock,  which  he  never  did.  They  were  all  dead,  and 
most  of  them  from  the  effects  of  strong  drink. 

I  thanked  him,  but  told  him  that  I  scarcely  knew  the 
taste  of  brandy  or  wine. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  remember  what  I  tell  you."     And 

I  did. 

Mr.  Robertson,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  written  a  check 
and  put  it  in  an  envelope.  **Mr.  Porter,"  he  said,  "  if 
you  will  not  stay  with  us,  we  wish  you  to  take  this  and 
buy  a  watch,  and  wear  it  as  a  memento  of  your  being 

with  us." 

I  had  been  there  a  little  over  three  years,  and  this  was 
the  first  present  I  had  received.  I  already  had  a  hand- 
some watch,  so  I  bought  a  horse  with  the  gift  of  money. 
I  shook  hands  with  the  gentlemen  and  retired  from  their 

employ. 

Had  I  not  spent  those  three  years  in  business  I  am  sure 
I  never  could  have  done  the  work  which  in  after  years, 
in  the  providence  of  God,  has  been  committed  to  my 
hands.  I  have  often  thought  what  a  difference  it  would 
most  probably  have  made  in  my  after  life,  if  I  had  ac- 
cepted the  offer,  and  become  a  partner  in  that  house. 

This  was  in  1848.  In  i860.  South  Carolina  seceded 
from  the  Union,  the  Civil  War  began,  all  of  my  associates 


My  Life  as  a  Southern  Planter,  63 

of  my  own  age  went  into  the  army,  most  of  them  as  ofi&- 
cers.  Most  probably  I  should  have  been  with  them  and 
shared  the  fate  of  so  many  of  them.  It  is  scarcely  prob- 
able that  I  would  have  been  alive  to  wTite  this  story  of  a 
varied  life,  for  though  in  the  army  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end,  I  was  there  as  chaplain,  and  non-combatant, 
thereby  running  no  risk  of  being  killed. 

In  the  week  before  Christmas,  1848,  there  was  a  very 
distinguished  actor  in  Charleston.     I  had  not  been  to  the 
theatre   for  two  and  a  half  years,   but   I   think  it  was 
McCready,  the  English  actor,  who  had  arrived  in  the  city, 
and  I  was  paying  a  visit  to  a  very  lovely  girl  who  after- 
wards married  my  friend,  Joshua  Ward,  and  as  we  talked 
about  the  actor,  I  asked  her  to  go  with  me  and  see  him  the 
following  evening.     It  was  an  extraordinarily  cold  night 
for  our  latitude,  and  I  dressed  in  evening  dress,  with  a 
light  overcoat,  and  took  a  frightful  cold.     A  day  or  two 
after,  I  went  up  to  Georgetown  to  pass  the  last  Christmas 
at  our  town  house,  before  taking  possession  of  my  property 
on  the  31st  of  January,   1849.     My  cold  increased,  and 
soon  developed  into  a  severe  attack  of  pneumonia,  and  on 
the  2ist  of  January,  just  ten  days  from  my  majority,  I  lay 
at  the  point  of  death,  "  so  near  and  yet  so  far."     For 
several  days  my  life  hung  in  the  balance,  but  by  the  31st, 
my  twenty-first  birthday,   I  was  slightly  better.     I  had 
now  reached  the  day  when  I  could  secure  ample  provision 
for  my  mother,  and  at  once  made  my  will,  giving  her  my 
estate  in  the  event  of  my  death,  thus  rendering  her  again 
independent.     But  my  life  was  providentially  spared,  and 
I  rallied  soon  after  I  came  of  age.     I  sold  the  town  house, 
paid  Mr.  Dozier  the  one  thousand  dollars  he  had  loaned 
me  when  I  was  a  boy  of  fourteen,  and  moved  to  the  resi- 
dence on  the  plantation.     There  was  a  great  deal  to  do. 
It  had  been  so  long  an  estate  under  the  management  of 
overseers,  after  my  brother's  death  in  1841,  that  buildings, 


64  Led  On  ! 


and  river  banks,  and  fences,  needed  mucli  repair,  ditches 
had  to  be  cleared  and  new  ones  cut. 

I  soon  found  my  business  training  was  of  great  use. 
The  entire  negro  settlement  was  at  once  rebuilt,  brick 
chimneys  put  where  clay  ones  had  been  used  ;  a  children's 
house,  where  they  were  daily  cared  for,  was  built.  I  con- 
tracted a  large  debt  in  buying  my  sisters'  slaves,  who  had 
been  hired  out,  as  my  sisters  had  no  rice  land,  and  the  joy 
of  those  people  was  very  great  when  they  came  back  to 
their  old  home,  and  it  was  soon  apparent  to  all  my  people 
that  a  master,  and  not  an  agent,  was  in  charge. 

I  at  once  organized  a  large  Sunday-school  for  all  the 
children,  to  which  many  of  their  parents  came.  Mother 
kept  house  for  me,  and  assisted  me  in  the  Sunday-school. 
Georgetown  is  eight  miles  from  the  place,  and  we  rode 
to  church  in  the  morning,  came  back  to  dinner,  and  gave 
the  afternoons  and  evenings  to  the  instruction  of  my 
slaves. 

Now  I  had  a  man  named  George,  who  was  a  Methodist 
class-leader,  who  did  the  preaching,  and  I  had  learned 
from  boyhood  to  look  up  to  him  with  great  respect. 
Those  Sundays  that  we  could  not  go  to  church,  I  gathered 
the  whole  of  my  slaves  together,  and  used  parts  of  the  ser- 
vice, read  the  Bible,  gave  them  some  lay  preaching,  and 
sang  a  great  many  of  the  hymns,  with  which  they  were 
familiar,  letting  George  ' '  line  them  out, ' '  as  they  called 
it,  and  let  them  sing  their  own  tunes.  When  the  full 
volume  of  sound  would  rise,  it  was  inspiring,  and  often 
exciting,  for  negroes  in  their  own  melodies,  the  old  plan- 
tation songs,  have  musical  voices. 

Not  long  after  I  had  gone  into  the  country,  I  received 
an  invitation  to  go  over  to  Waccamaw  to  a  great  hunting 
party  which  was  gotten  up  to  welcome  me  into  the  circle 
of  planters.     Of  course  I  went. 

We  took  our  first  drive,  and  started  three  or  four  deer, 


My  Life  as  a  Southern  Planter.  65 

but  got  none.  The  rallying  horn  was  blown,  and  the 
hunters  gathered  about  eleven  o'clock  by  a  clear  stream 
of  water,  and  at  once  out  came  the  flasks  of  brandy,  and 
my  health  with  a  toast  was  to  be  drunk. 

Mr.  Blacklock's  parting  warning  came  to  my  mind,  so 
I  took  a  cup,  and  stooped  down  and  filled  it  with  water, 
and  said  I  was  ready  for  the  drink.  Oh,  that  would  not 
do,  they  all  said, — it  was  expected  of  me  to  join  them.  I 
turned  to  my  host,  who  was  Joshua  Ward,  who  knew  me 
well,  and  I  said,  **  Josh,  I  do  not  wish  even  to  seem  to  be 
rude,  but  I  was  warned  against  this  by  our  common  friend, 
Mr.  Blacklock,  and  without  interfering  with  your  custom, 
you  must  let  me  join  you  in  this  cup  of  water." 

That  ended  it.  It  was  known  I  would  not  drink  before 
dinner,  and  though  always  asked,  was  never  pressed.  I 
attribute  to  Mr.  Blacklock's  few  wise  words  the  fact  that 
I  passed  through  my  planter's  life  and  all  through  the 
Civil  War,  and  I  am  sure  I  have  never  taken  half  a 
dozen  glasses  of  any  kind  of  stimulant  before  dinner,  in 
my  life,  and  never  made  it  a  daily  habit  to  take  any. 
When  I  was  fifty-five  years  old  my  old  physician.  Doctor 
Wragg,  who  attended  me  at  fifteen  with  typhoid  fever  at 
Mr.  Cotes' s  school,  urged  that  my  peculiarly  anxious  life 
was  such  a  strain  on  my  nervous  system,  that  I  must  take 
a  glass  of  whiskey-and- water  every  day  at  dinner,  and  that 
is  my  habit  whenever  I  am  at  home.  Never  a  drop  be- 
fore nor  after  dinner,  but  only  one  wineglass  measured 
out  at  dinner.  I  hope  that  if  this  story  is  ever  read  that 
no  one  will  think  I  am  a  fanatic.  I  approve  of  a  good 
cigar,  and  a  good  glass  of  wine,  or  if  necessary  a  good 
glass  of  whiskey,  if  it  is  desirable  for  the  health.  These 
things  are  to  be  used  in  moderation  and  received  with 
thanksgiving. 

After  the  manner  of  Southern  country  gentlemen,  we 
entertained  a  great  deal,  and  were  seldom  without  friends 


66  Led  On  ! 


staying  with  us.  Some  young  ladies  visited  my  mother, 
with  one  of  whom  I  saw  that  mother  was  quite  anxious 
that  I  should  fall  in  love.  I  liked  to  please  my  mother, 
but  love-making  is  one  thing  that  no  one  can  do  for  an- 
other. Love  that  induces  a  true  man  to  seek  a  wife,  or 
a  true  woman  to  accept  a  man  as  her  husband,  is  not 
manufactured.  Match-making  is  a  poor  business,  and  I 
am  not  so  made  that  anyone  could  do  that  for  me.  The 
woman  that  was  to  be  my  wife,  and  the  mother  of  my 
children,  had  to  be  one  who  could  establish  herself  in  my 
respect,  admiration,  and  affection,  without  anyone's  aid. 
The  memory  of  my  first  love  had  become  hallowed.  The 
lady  had  married,  and  I  thought  of  it  only  as  a  sweet, 
pleasant  dream  of  the  long,  long  ago.  But  I  knew  that 
something  like  it  would  have  to  come  again,  when  next 
I  thought  of  marriage.  I  did  not  know  how  rich  a  bless- 
ing God  was  keeping  in  store  for  me. 

There  was  a  great  variety  in  my  life  and  always  much 
to  do,  and  I  believe  I  realized  the  solemn  responsibility 
of  holding  my  fellow  creatures  as  slaves.  I  did  all  I 
could  to  house  my  people  well,  to  feed  them  plentifully, 
to  clothe  them  warmly,  and  to  provide  for  their  religious 
instruction,  while  their  daily  tasks  of  labor  were  such  as 
they  could  easily  fulfil.  I  worked  harder  in  the  counting- 
house,  and  have  since  worked  harder  than  any  slave  I 
ever  owned. 

One  day  I  received  quite  a  shock  in  my  barnyard.  I 
had  no  steam  thrasher,  though  I  was  preparing  for  one, 
and  the  rice  was  thrashed  out  by  flail  and  bob.  Every 
afternoon  the  hands  took  their  last  floor  of  straw  off  in  a 
bundle  on  their  heads,  as  they  went  to  their  homes.  On 
the  day  I  speak  of,  my  overseer  came  to  me,  and  said, 
"  Mr.  Porter,  you  think  a  great  deal  of  George,  the 
Methodist  class  leader. ' ' 

Yes,"  I  said  ;  "   a  great  deal.     He  is  a  good  man." 


( ( 


My  Life  as  a  Southern  Planter.  67 


No,"  the  overseer  replied,  "  he  is  a  grand  rascal." 
Be  careful,"  I  said;  "  I  will  require  you  to  prove  it." 
Oh,  that  can  easily  be  done.  The  rice, ' '  he  said,  ' '  is 
well  headed,  but  it  is  not  turning  out  as  much  as  it  should, 
and  as  I  suspected  something  was  wrong,  I  hid  myself  in 
the  cow- pen,  where  the  hands  threw  their  bundle  of  straw, 
and  waited  an  hour  or  two  after  dark,  when  I  saw  a  long 
■line  of  the  hands  enter  the  cow-pen,  and  George  was  in 
the  lead.  They  went  to  each  bundle  of  straw,  opened  each, 
and  took  out  of  every  one  of  them  a  parcel  holding  from  a 
peck  to  a  half-bushel  of  rough  rice.  This  they  took  down 
to  the  swamp  and  pounded  it.  I  followed  them  in  the 
dark  and  watched  the  whole  process,  until  they  returned 
with  the  clean  rice  to  their  homes. ' ' 

Now,  to  every  family  a  certain  amount  of  rice  land  was 
allotted  which  they  could  plant  with  white  seed,  not  gold 
seed,  so  that  they  could  have  as  much  rice  of  their  own 
as  they  needed  ;  and  not  being  allowed  to  have  the  gold 
seed,  which  was  the  crop  rice,  they  could  not  cheat  us. 
Besides,  there  was  a  garden  to  each  house  ;  each  could  raise 
as  many  hogs  and  chickens  as  they  wished,  and  each  thrifty 
family  had  a  cow  and  a  calf.  Of  course,  some  took  care  of 
themselves,  while  others,  like  white  people,  were  thriftless. 

"  Well,"  I  said  to  the  overseer,  "  are  you  sure  George 
was  among  them  ?  ' ' 

*'  Oh,  yes,  he  was  the  leader  of  the  gang." 

''  Call  George  tome." 

He  came. 

"  George,"  I  said,  "  the  overseer  has  made  a  grave 
charge  against  you,  that  I  can  scarcely  believe,  although 
he  is  so  sure.     I  wish  to  know  what  you  have  to  say." 

I  then  repeated  the  overseer's  story. 

George  listened  very  attentively,  and  finding  the  facts 
so  circumstantial,  and  no  way  to  avoid  them,  he  said, 
"  Yes,  Mossa,  it  is  all  true," 


68  Led  On  ! 

"  What,"  I  said,  "  you,  a  preacher  of  righteousness  on 
this  plantation,  and  yet  you  were  found  heading  a  gang 
of  thieves.  No  wonder  the  crop  was  falling  short,  as 
eighty  odd  bundles,  abstracted  every  evening,  would  soon 
make  a  hole  in  the  pile.  Did  I  ever  refuse  to  give  you 
anything  you  asked  for,  George  ?  " 

''  No,  Mossa." 

"  Do  I  not  give  you  enough  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mossa,  plenty." 

"  Then,  sir,  what  does  it  mean  ?  " 

'*  Oh,  Mossa,  you  know  it  is  only  nigger — but,  Mossa, 
I  no  tief  (steal)  de  rice." 

**  Not  steal  the  rice,"  I  said  ;  **  and  yet  you  tell  me  that 
you  took  it  from  this  barnyard,  with  others,  hid  it  in  a 
bundle  of  straw,  got  it  in  the  dark,  and  pounded  it  in  the 
woods. ' ' 

* '  Yes,  Mossa,  all  dat  is  so,  but  I  no  tief  de  rice — Mossa, 
enty  nigger  belong  to  Mossa  ?  " 

"  I  believe  you  do,"  I  said. 

"  Enty  rice  belong  to  Mossa  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  does." 

'*  Well,  sir,  if  rice  belong  to  Mossa,  and  nigger  belong 
to  Mossa,  and  nigger  eat  de  rice,  enty  Mossa  still  ?  ' ' 

The  logic  was  irresistible,  but  the  excuse  so  ludicrous, 
I  found  it  hard  to  restrain  my  risibles  and  to  appear  very 
angry. 

*'  Well,  sir,"  I  said,  "  is  that  the  kind  of  doctrine  you 
teach  your  hearers,  my  slaves  ?  Then  I  break  you  right 
here  as  a  preacher,  and  if  you  preach  again,  I  will  show 
you  that  the  rice  and  nigger  do  belong  to  Mossa,  and  will 
have  nigger  given  a  good  thrashing. ' ' 

Investigation  showed  that  I  had  long  been  deceived  in 
the  man,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  the  same  character  largely 
prevailed  in  all  that  class.  The  Methodist  class  leaders 
used  their  position  of  influence,  to  the  gratification  and  in- 


My  Life  as  a  Southern  Planter,  69 

dulgence  in  much  immorality  and  corruption.  I  could  tell 
a  number  of  stories  in  illustration,  and  any  old  Southern 
planter  who  may  read  this  could  add  more.  It  is  sup- 
posed it  was  a  common  thing  to  separate  colored  husbands 
and  wives.  My  experience  was,  that  it  was  difficult  to 
keep  them  together.  Conjugal  fidelity  was  rather  un- 
common. I  had  a  man  named  Peter  ;  he  was  very  tall, 
and  was  called  long  Peter  ;  he  was  married  to  a  very  re- 
spectable woman,  and  they  had  a  large  family  of  children. 
One  day  long  Peter  came  to  me,  and  said  he  wished  to 
take  another  wife. 

**  Well,"  I  said,  *'  Peter,  the  trouble  is,  you  cannot  do 
it.     A  man  in  this  country  can  only  have  one  wife." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mossa,  but  I  want  to  leave  this  one,  and  get 
a  young  gal.     She  is  too  old  for  me." 

' '  You  rascal, ' '  I  said,  ' '  and  what  does  your  wife  say  to 
this?" 

"  Oh,  she  does  not  wish  me  to  leave  her." 

"  And  you  shall  not,"  I  said. 

So  calling  both  together,  I  told  her  all  that  had  passed. 

**  I  am  not  going  to  punish  you,"  I  added,  "  but  I  mean 
to  make  Peter  live  with  3^ou." 

I  then  directed  the  overseer  to  fix  up  comfortable 
quarters  in  the  barn  and  every  night  to  see  that  the  man 
and  wife  had  food,  water,  and  a  bed,  and  to  put  them  in 
the  barn,  and  lock  them  up  together. 

This  lasted  about  a  fortnight,  when  Peter  said,  "  Dat 
will  do,  Mossa.  I  see  you  is  'termined,  and  I  will  live 
with  Klsey — let  us  out." 

I  did  so,  and  the  fellow  did  live  with  his  family  as  long 
as  I  owned  them,  but  as  to  his  fidelity,  I  cannot  vouch. 


CHAPTER    VII 


KND   OF  MY  PI.ANTATION   LIFE 

The  institution  of  slavery — Its  missionary  results — An  in- 
herited responsibility — The  good  side  of  the  African — 
Emancipation — /  begin  to  feel  that  I  had  missed  my  voca- 
tion— /  determine  to  enter  the  mi7iistry — My  friends  en- 
courage me — A  time  of  study — The  episcopal  examination 
—  The  end  of  plantation  life  for  me — A  painful  ordeal. 

THIS  seems  to  me  a  good  place  to  record  my  views  as 
to  the  institution  of  slavery.  I  could  not  help  it 
that  I  was  a  slave-holder.  I  was  born  to  it,  and  inherited 
it.  It  had  come  to  my  ancestors  from  the  English,  and 
afterwards  from  the  cupidity  of  residents  in  the  Eastern 
States.  I  do  not  believe  there  is  anywhere  on  record, 
that  the  slave  trade  was  carried  on  by  Southern  people. 
I  do  not  say  this  by  way  of  reproach  ;  as  I  have  said  be- 
fore, those  who  brought  and  those  who  bought  them  lived 
up  to  the  light  of  their  day,  and  God,  who  oversees  the 
wickedness  of  man,  made  it  the  greatest  missionary  work 
ever  done  by  man.  Not  five  hundred  thousand  naked 
African  savages  were  brought  over  to  America  before  the 
trade  was  stopped,  and  had  they  remained  in  Africa,  if  they 
had  not  been  eaten  by  the  king  of  Dahomey,  their  de- 
scendants would  be  naked  African  savages  still.  Whereas 
the  descendants  of  those  five  hundred  thousand  number 

70 


End  of  My  Plantation  Life.  7 1 

eight  millions  at  the  present  day,  of  whom  two  thirds  are 
professing  Christians.  It  is  all  bosh  when  the  negroes  of 
the  South  are  classed  among  the  heathen.  Their  religion 
may  not  be  of  a  high  and  cultured  type,  their  morals  may 
be  below  our  standard,  but  considering  the  advantages, 
influences,  and  restraints  of  each  race,  the  morals  of  the 
blacks  are  not  one  whit  lower  than  the  morals  of  the 
whites,  relatively  speaking.  And  among  these  people  I 
have  met  with  some  noble  traits.  I  have  known  some 
true  Christians.  I  have  sat  at  the  feet  of  an  old  black 
Mamma,  and  have  taught  her  the  words  of  the  Apostle's 
Creed,  and  learned  from  her  receptive  faith,  how  to  be- 
lieve it  myself  I  love  the  African  race,  and  think  they 
are  the  most  wonderful  people  (taking  all  their  history) 
of  the  present  day,  and  yet,  I  believe  they  are  an  inferior 
type  of  men,  and  the  mass  of  them  will  be  hewers  of  wood 
and  drawers  of  water  till  the  end  of  time — at  the  least,  to 
the  end  of  many  generations.  Do  for  them  as  we  will,  a 
black  man  will  never  be  a  white  one.  I  think  I  was  born 
opposed  to  slavery.  I  do  not  remember  the  time  when  I 
did  not  hate  it.  Yet  what  could  I  do  to  abolish  it  ? 
When  I  came  of  age,  and  inherited  those  that  had  been 
left  me,  when  I  bought  my  sisters'  slaves,  and  brought 
them  all  back  to  the  old  plantation,  what  could  I  do  but 
keep  them  ?  I  could  not  free  them,  if  I  had  wished  to, 
and  I  was  not  such  a  philanthropist  as  to  be  willing  to 
make  mj^self  a  pauper  by  emancipating  ;  the  law  for- 
bade that.  If  I  had  so  desired,  I  could  not  have  taken 
them  to  many  of  the  Western  or  Northern  States,  for  the 
law  prohibited  that,  but  if  I  could  have  taken  them  to 
some  free  State,  how  would  they  have  been  supported  ? 
To  have  transported  a  large  number  of  men,  women,  and 
children  without  a  dollar  into  a  strange  land,  would  have 
been  worse  than  barbarism.  Much  has  been  written  on 
the  subject,  and  much  can  be  written.     In  sections  of  the 


72  Led  On  / 


South,  it  was  truly  a  patriarchal  system.  In  some  families 
an  institution  almost  sacred.  But  when  one  generalizes, 
he  fails  to  describe  things  as  they  are.  In  some  sections, 
and  in  some  families,  the  institution  was  anything  but 
patriarchal.  There  were  many  things  in  it  possibly  that 
were  lovely,  and  there  were  many  things  hateful.  The 
dependence  of  these  people  on  their  masters  and  mistresses, 
their  love  and  care  for  our  children,  their  tender  faithful- 
ness to  us  in  sickness,  what  old  Southern  slave-holder  can 
forget  all  this  ?  Where,  but  on  a  Southern  plantation, 
could  a  family  go  to  bed,  night  after  night,  year  in  and 
year  out,  surrounded  by  hundreds  of  African  slaves,  your 
own,  and  those  of  your  immediate  neighbors,  with  the 
sideboard  and  the  drawers  unlocked,  all  loaded  with  old 
family  silver,  and  all  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  house 
left  open,  and  never  a  fork  or  a  spoon  to  be  taken  ?  What 
could  have  been,  what  is  there  in  the  records  of  history 
more  sublime  than  the  fact  when  in  the  four  years  of  civil 
war,  when  the  South  was  invaded  by  army  after  army,  not 
only  of  Americans  but  of  hordes  of  foreigners,  and  our 
slaves  were  sent  from  the  coast  country  into  the  interior, 
with  our  wives  and  children,  while  all  able  and  respectable 
white  men  were  in  the  army,  these  slaves  not  only  pro- 
tected these  women  and  children,  but  regularly  worked 
for  them,  while  they  knew  their  slavery  was  at  the  real 
bottom  of  the  strife  ?  Yet  in  all  those  bloody,  awful  years 
from  '6 1  to  '65,  through  all  the  South  there  is  no  record  of 
a  single  murder  committed  by  a  negro  on  a  white  person, 
or  a  single  outrage  or  indignity  offered  to  any  woman.  I 
say  it  is  a  proof  of  the  manly  nobility  of  the  negro,  for 
which  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  should  be  grateful,  as  it  re- 
dounds to  the  credit  of  the  masters  of  the  South,  as  evi- 
dencing the  feelings  with  which  their  treatment  in  general 
had  inspired  the  slaves.  It  was  a  joyous  sight  in  olden 
times  to  see  in  nearly  all  our  plantation  families,  all  the 


End  of  My  Plantation  Life.  73 

house  servants  come  in  to  morning  and  evening  family- 
prayer,  and  to  go  to  their  church  meetings  and  hear  them 
sing.  When  the  war  broke  out,  there  were  within  five  as 
many  negro  communicants  in  the  Episcopal  Church  in 
South  Carolina  as  there  were  white,  and  the  Methodists 
and  Baptists  counted  them  by  the  thousands. 

It  would  extend  this  subject  too  long  to  tell  all  I  know 
and  feel  about  it,  yet  I  thank  God  the  negroes  are  free. 
I  think  their  emancipation  was  cruel  in  the  way  it  was 
done — cruel  to  them  and  cruel  to  us.  More  unwise  still 
was  the  haste  with  which  the  ballot  was  put  in  their 
hands  ;  but  it  is  done,  and  I  do  not  know  a  Southern  man 
who  would  restore  slavery  if  he  could. 

Sometime  in  the  winter  of  1850,  I  was  asked  to  deliver 
an  address  to  the  Odd  Fellows,  for  I  had  joined  the  order, 
and  accordingly  I  wrote  and  delivered  the  address,  which 
resulted  in  a  request  that  I  would  deliver  the  4th  of  July 
oration.  Up  to  the  war,  the  4th  of  July  was  a  great  day 
with  us,  and  someone  always  read  the  Declaration  of  In- 
dependence, and  an  oration  was  given.  I  did  my  part, 
and  this  led  the  constituency  about  the  Sampit  section,  to 
desire  me  to  run  for  the  lyCgislature.  I  took  it  up,  and 
gave  some  dinners  to  the  masses,  and  made  some  speeches, 
but  it  was  not  to  my  taste  and  I  declined  to  enter  into 
politics,  or  rather  to  accept  any  office. 

I  made  a  very  good  crop  of  rice  in  1850,  and  also  in 
1 85 1,  and  do  not  recall  anything  of  very  great  importance, 
except  that  I  found  that  I  was  growing  very  tired  of  the 
plantation  life.  The  novelty  had  worn  off.  The  necessary 
routine  of  managing,  controlling,  punishing,  etc.,  of  the 
slaves  soon  became  very  irksome.  I  tried  to  be,  and  I 
know  I  was,  a  conscientious,  careful,  Christian  master, 
and  I  know  my  people  were  as  well  cared  for,  and  had  as 
many  comforts  and  privileges  as  any  laboring  people  in 
the  world.     They  were  a  light-hearted,  happy  gang  ;  still 


74  Led  On  ! 


they  had  to  be  governed,  and  made  to  obey,  and  I  was 
very  tired  of  it. 

I  remember  I  was  riding  one  day  through  the  woods, 
going  from  my  lower  to  my  upper  plantation,  about  three 
miles,  to  see  how  the  hands  were  getting  on  with  their 
work.  I  was  alone,  and  thoughtful,  when  suddenly  stop- 
ping my  horse,  I  turned  his  head  towards  the  woods,  and 
when  I  was  hidden  from  the  possible  sight  of  any  passer- 
by, I  sat  on  the  horse,  and  offered  an  earnest  prayer  that 
God  would  lead  me  to  a  life  more  useful,  and  more  satis- 
fying to  my  nature,  than  the  control  and  disciphne  of 
negroes.  I  had  then  no  thought  of  seeking  the  ministry. 
That  had  all  passed  away  from  my  mind,  if  not  from  my 
heart.  I  was  not  conscious  of  a  wish  for  it,  or  a  thought 
about  it,  but  I  have  looked  back  since,  and  that  ride 
through  the  woods,  that  prayer  on  horseback,  has  seemed 
to  me  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  my  planter's  life. 

This  was  sometime  in  the  month  of  February ;  planting 
began  in  March,  and  I  was  very  busy.  Sometime  in  the 
month  of  April,  1851,  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Mary  Ford,  came  to 
pay  us  a  visit.  We  had  returned  from  church,  and  after 
finishing  our  usual  service  with  the  plantation  hands,  we 
took  dinner,  and  sat  around  the  fire,  for  it  happened  to  be 
cold  weather.  The  conversation  turned  upon  the  inci- 
dents of  my  father's  life.  My  aunt  was  devoted  to  him, 
and  mother  and  she  had  a  great  deal  to  tell  me  of  his 
words  and  ways.  I  had  often  heard  many  of  the  inci- 
dents before,  and  was  well  acquainted  with  his  character- 
istics, but  this  night  all  that  was  said  sank  into  my  mind 
with  increased  power,  and  took  possession  of  me.  What 
a  blessing  to  children  to  have  parents  they  can  revere  ! 

It  was  after  eleven  o'clock  at  night  before  we  retired.  I 
went  to  my  chamber,  read  my  Bible,  said  my  prayers,  and 
undressed.  I  had  stooped  down  to  take  off  my  socks, 
when  there  passed  over  me  an  overwhelming  sense  of 


End  of  My  Plantation  Life,  75 

misery,  I  raised  myself  up,  and  looking  steadily  into  the 
fire,  I  said  aloud,  ''  I  am  very  unhappy.  Well,"  I  con- 
tinued, *'  and  why  am  I  so  unhappy  ?  "  I  had  everything 
that  a  reasonable  man  could  wish  ;  my  fortune  in  these 
days  would  be  considered  as  poverty,  but  in  those  days  I 
was  as  well  off  as  the  most  of  my  neighbors.  There  were  a 
few  young  men  with  more  property,  but  many  with  not 
so  much.  My  life  record,  from  the  time  of  my  youth, 
could  stand  the  blaze  of  the  fiercest  light  turned  on  it.  I 
had  nothing  to  hide,  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  My 
social  position  was  of  course  assured.  I  knew  I  was 
esteemed  among  men.  I  was  in  the  vestry  of  the  church, 
was  a  delegate  at  twenty-one  to  the  Diocesan  Convention 
from  my  parish,  my  health  was  tolerably  good,  though 
not  robust.  I  had  a  well- furnished  house,  a  good  library, 
was  a  steady  reader.  Had  my  servants,  horses,  guns,  and 
dogs  ;  could  come  and  go  as  I  pleased,  and  j^et,  after  sur- 
veying the  situation  and  conditions,  I  said,  '  *  Still,  I  am 
very  unhappy,  and  why  is  it  so  ?  " 

I  was  seated  on  a  chair  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  had 
drawn  my  right  foot  up  on  to  the  chair  with  my  finger  in 
the  top  of  my  sock,  half  pulled  off,  and  there  I  sat,  and 
pondered. 

Gradually  the  thought  entered  my  mind  that  I  was  un- 
happy, because  I  was  not  fulfilling  my  destiny.  "  And 
what  is  that  ?  "  It  soon  took  definite  form  in  the  thought 
that  I  had  purposed,  when  a  boy  of  fourteen,  to  study  for 
the  ministry,  and  I  had  given  it  up  and  had  driven  it  from 
me. 

'*  Pshaw,"  I  said,  **  it  is  too  late,  that  cannot  now 
be !  "  and  I  drew  off  my  sock,  and  with  impatience  threw 
it  across  the  room. 

I  put  the  light  out,  and  jumped  into  bed,  and  tried  to 
drown  thought  in  sleep  ;  but  it  was  of  no  avail.  Sleep 
had  fled.     My  broken  purpose  seemed  to  stand  like  a 


76  Led  On  ! 


phantom  before  me,  and  I  could  not  drive  it  away.  I 
then  began  to  reason  with  myself.  I  had  left  school,  had 
gone  to  business,  had  left  it  for  the  planter's  life,  had  been 
at  it  a  little  over  two  j^ears. 

Was  I  not  volatile,  unstable,  restless,  would  I  not  create 
this  impression  upon  all  that  knew  me  ?  Then  I  answered 
myself,  '  *  What  has  brought  this  broken  purpose  back  to 
me  ?  Why  does  it  stay  there  ?  Is  it  the  Spirit  of  God 
calling  me  back  ?  If  it  is  the  Spirit,  what  matters  what 
anyone  thinks  of  me  ?  ' ' 

Then  I  thought,  "It  is  impossible.  I  have  given  up 
systematic  study  for  nearly  six  years,  have  almost  forgot- 
ten my  Latin  and  Greek,  have  read  a  great  deal,  but  have 
not  studied." 

Then  I  answered  myself,  "  I  had  a  good  grounding,  I 
did  not  have  a  dull  mind,  I  had  a  strong  will,  and  if  I  de- 
termined to  study,  what  was  to  hinder  me  from  studying 
and  learning  what  any  other  man  could  learn  ?  ' '  And 
again  I  asked  myself,  ' '  Is  this  the  Spirit  of  God  calling 
me  ?  if  so,  shall  I  hesitate  to  accept  the  call,  because  of  the 
labor  of  study  ?  ' ' 

Thus  objections  melted  away,  for  I  was  fond  of  books, 
and  study  with  an  object  would  soon  become  a  pleasure. 

Then  came  the  financial  question.  What  of  my  debt  to 
my  sisters  ?  My  business  training  soon  arranged  how 
that  could  be  settled.  Then  last  came  the  question  of  the 
disposition  of  my  property.  I  knew  I  could  not  be  a  rice 
planter  and  a  clergyman  in  active  life  at  the  same  time, 
and  to  sell  my  hereditary  estates,  my  plantations  and 
negroes  that  had  been  in  my  family  so  long  !  No,  I  could 
not  do  it,  and  I  turned  over  in  bed  dismissing  the  subject. 
But  it  was  no  use.  I  tumbled  and  tossed  all  night,  battling 
with  myself,  and  with  this  conviction,  that  the  reason  I 
was  unhappy  was,  that  I  was  not  fulfilling  my  destinj^ 
until  at  last  I  gave  way  and  made  a  full  surrender  of  myself. 


End  of  My  Plantation  Life.  "]*] 

Jumping  out  of  bed,  I  knelt  down  at  the  bedside,  and 
said,  "  I^ord,  if  Thou  dost  wish  me,  here  am  I.  I  give 
myself  to  the  ministry  of  Thy  Word.  Thou  must  lead 
me  and  make  the  way  by  which  it  can  be  done.  I  give 
myself  to  Thee,  my  God,  through  Jesus  Christ,  Thy  Son." 

Just  then  a  large  clock  in  another  room  struck  four.  I 
immediately  crossed  the  hall  to  my  mother's  room  and 
told  her  of  my  resolve.  Wakened  out  of  sleep  to  receive 
such  information,  she  at  once  began  going  over  the  diffi- 
culties which  I  had  already  solved.  I  listened,  and  then 
told  her  I  had  gone  over  all  of  them,  but  that  I  believed 
that  I  was  called  of  God,  and  I  dared  not,  nor  did  I  wish 
to  refuse  the  call.  She  prayed  that  God  would  guide  and 
bless  me,  and  then  I  went  back  to  bed  and  to  sleep. 

My  aunt,  when  she  heard  of  it  at  the  breakfast  table 
next  morning,  said  she  was  not  surprised,  and  no  one 
would  be  surprised,  for  it  seemed  the  most  natural  thing, 
and  if  I  did  not  make  a  good  minister,  she  did  not  know 
what  young  man  could. 

This  was  encouraging  as  the  first  echo  from  the  outside 
world. 

After  attending  to  the  affairs  of  the  plantation,  I  rode 
down  to  Georgetown  and  called  on  the  rector.  Rev.  Robt. 
T.  Howard.  He  greeted  me  warmly,  and  said  he  had 
been  expecting  to  hear  this  for  some  time,  and  then  gave 
directions  what  I  was  to  do.  He  and  I  both  wrote  that 
morning  to  Bishop  Gadsden,  who  in  time  replied,  inform- 
ing me  that  as  soon  as  I  felt  equal  to  standing  an  exami- 
nation in  Latin  and  Greek,  and  other  studies  required  by 
Canon,  he  would  appoint  examiners.  Soon  after  leaving 
Mr.  Howard,  I  met  Mr.  Benj.  H.  Wilson  in  the  street. 
He  was  not  a  religious  man,  but  had  always  been  friendly 
with  me.  I  told  him  what  was  going  on.  He  took  my 
hand  and  gave  me  a  friendly  grasp,  saying,  '*  I  am  quite 
prepared  for  this.     Your  friends  have  all  said  you  would 


78  Led  On  ! 

sooner  or  later  enter  the  ministry,  and  I  am  glad  it  has 


come  so  soon." 


Here  my  first  difficulty  was  completely  answered.  If 
my  friends  had  gathered  from  my  life  any  such  impres- 
sion, it  had  not  been  from  any  intimation  I  had  given,  for 
I  had  not  one  thought  of  it  myself  I  had  put  it  away 
from  me  when  I  was  fifteen,  and  I  was  now  twenty- three 
years  old. 

I  of  course  immediately  began  an  earnest  and  systematic 
course  of  study.  And  when  I  felt  that  I  could  pass  an 
examination,  I  informed  the  bishop,  who  appointed  Rev. 
M.  H.  I^ance  and  Rev.  Robt.  T.  Howard  to  be  my  ex- 
aminers. 

They  were  not  very  rigid,  and  I  was  recommended  by 
them  to  the  Standing  Committee  with  the  bishop's  ap- 
proval, and  was  received  as  a  candidate  for  priest's  orders. 
The  next  point  was  the  financial,  and  proper  arrangements 
were  made  respecting  my  debt  to  my  sisters.  Then  came 
the  last,  the  disposition  of  my  propert3^  The  crop  w^as  all 
planted,  and  the  final  disposition  was  not  to  take  place  till 
after  harvest.  In  the  meanwhile  I  called  all  my  slaves 
up  and  told  them  how  I  felt  called  of  God  to  go  and  preach 
the  Gospel,  that  when  I  was  ordained,  I  could  not  tell 
where  I  would  be  sent,  and  that  I  certainly  would  leave 
the  plantation.  I  told  them  that  they  had  now  two  years 
under  a  master,  against  twenty  years  under  overseers  ; 
they  knew  the  difference.  If  the}^  preferred  it,  that  I 
would  continue  to  own  them,  but  they  would  not  have  my 
protecting  eye.  If  they  would  take  my  advice,  they 
would  let  me  select  for  them  a  master  ;  that  I  would 
promise  them  to  choose  some  gentleman  whom  I  believed 
to  be  a  Christian,  and  if  I  could  not  find  an  owner  to  suit 
my  views,  I  would  not  sell  them. 

Their  first  impulse  was  to  refuse  to  be  sold,  and  with 
the  emotional  nature  of  negroes,  they  set  up  a  wail  an4 


End  of  My  Plantation  Life.  79 

howling  which  was  very  distressing.  I  anticipated  this, 
but  it  quite  upset  me.  I  told  them  that  I  would  give 
them  a  week  or  a  fortnight  to  decide.  I  took  the  most  in- 
telligent of  them  aside,  and  gave  them  my  views  in  full, 
and  advised  them  to  counsel  the  people  to  choose  a  master. 
In  the  given  time  the}^  were  all  called  together  again,  and 
it  was  a  pathetic  scene.  Master  and  slaves  were  in  tears, 
they  made  protestations  of  love  and  desire  to  die  in  my 
hands  ;  still  they  felt  that  I  had  advised  them  of  their 
good,  and  they  would  trust  me  to  select  a  good  master  for 
them.  My  heart  was  very  full  when  the  decision  was 
made,  but  negotiations  were  entered  into  with  different 
parties  for  the  land,  which  was  finally  sold  to  Mr.  Lance 
to  be  delivered  January  i,  1852,  while  I  undertook  the 
more  difficult  part  of  finding  an  owner  for  the  slaves.  I 
sent  a  certified  list  of  all  of  them  with  the  doctor's 
certificate  as  to  their  physical  condition  to  Mr.  Philip 
Porcher  of  Charleston,  the  most  respectable  broker  who 
attended  to  such  matters,  asking  for  the  valuation  of 
them,  and  in  due  time  received  his  appraisement.  I 
settled  on  Dr.  AUard  H.  Flagg,  of  Waccamaw,  as  the  best 
man  I  knew,  and  deducted  sixteen  thousand  five  hundred 
dollars  from  their  appraised  value,  in  order  that  they 
might  all  be  sold  to  one  man  with  no  separation.  This 
was  effected  in  October,  1851,  and  the  slaves  were  to  be 
delivered  early  in  December,  after  the  crop  was  disposed 
of.     The  summer  passed  and  the  time  came. 

Mother  had  gone  to  live  in  Charleston.  I  disposed  of 
the  household  furniture  that  we  did  not  need,  and  made 
ready  for  removing  the  slaves.  I  chartered  a  steamer  to 
come  to  the  wharf  at  the  barnyard,  and  the  pilgrimage 
began.  God  knows  what  it  cost  me  ;  my  distress  was 
greater  far  than  those  people  felt.  I  closed  up  my  house, 
and  went  to  the  negro  vSettlement,  and  moved  the  proces- 
sion.    All  their  household  goods,  their  pigs  and  chickens, 


8o 


Led  On  / 


their  cows  and  calves  were  all  put  in  motion,  all  marclied 
down  to  the  steamer,  I  following  on  horseback.  I  saw 
them  all  on  board;  then  drawing  them  all  up  in  line,  I 
shook  hands  with  every  one  from  the  youngest  to  the 
oldest,  and  left  the  boat,  which  soon  steamed  away.  I 
was  left  the  only  living  creature  on  the  plantation. 

Though  my  father  had  been  buried  in  Georgetown  in 
the  churchyard,  my  grandfather,  an  aunt,  and  uncle  had 
according  to  an  old  custom  been  buried  in  a  ground  set 
aside  on  the  plantation,  near  his  old  residence.  In  the 
summer  I  had  a  deep  ditch  dug  all  around  and  a  high 
bank  thrown  up. 

When  the  steamer  headed  down  the  river,  I  mounted 
my  horse,  and  looking  neither  to  the  right,  where  my 
grandfather  was  buried,  nor  to  the  left,  where  my  residence 
had  been,  I  rode  as  straight  as  I  could  go  to  the  road  which 
led  to  Georgetown,  and  turned  my  back  on  my  old  ances- 
tral home.  It  is  now  forty-six  3^ears  since  that  day,  and 
I  have  never  had  the  nerve  or  resolution  to  visit  it  again. 
The  intense  anguish  of  that  occasion  cannot  be  understood 
by  anyone  who  has  not  passed  through  the  same  ex- 
perience. 

And  so  closed  forever  the  chapter  of  my  Southern 
planter's  life. 


CHAPTER   VIII 


A   PI.ANTATION    RKCTOR 


/  begin  my  theological  studies — The  Rev.  Alex.  Glennie — 
The  plantation  rector — /  become  a  lay  reader — /  success- 
fully pass  a  canonical  exami7iation — In  the  meantime  I 
meet  my  fate  on  the  tidp  to  Georgetown — Love  a?id  77iar- 
riage — My  missionary  zeal  is  severely  tested — My  wedding 
trip. 


[Turned  my  face  and  my  attention  now  to  the  new 
era  of  my  life.  Having  made  every  arrangement 
which  enabled  me  to  close  my  business  as  a  rice  planter, 
I  had  to  determine  what  was  wisest  and  best  to  be  done 
next.  My  mother  went  to  Charleston,  to  live  with  my 
old  aunt,  old  enough  to  have  been  born  the  day  that 
Charleston  was  surrendered  to  the  British.  I  had  deter- 
mined to  go  to  New  York,  and  enter  the  General  Theo- 
logical Seminary.  My  family  doctor,  and  both  of  my 
brothers-in-law,  who  were  doctors,  most  strenuously  ad- 
vised against  this.  They  represented  that  I  was  not 
physically  strong,  and  would  not  be  able  to  stand  the 
winters  of  the  North.  They  convinced  me  that  my  plan 
in  this  particular  was  inexpedient.  With  the  advice  of 
Bishop  Gadsden,  therefore,  I  applied  to  the  Rev.  Alex. 
Glennie,  of  All  Saints,  Waccamaw,  asking  that  I  might 
go  to  him,  and  study  under  him.     Mr.   Glennie  gladly 

8i 


82  Led  On! 


consented,  so  I  went  over  to  the  parsonage  of  All  Saints, 
Waccamaw,  early  in  the  month  of  December,  1851.  Rev. 
A.  Glennie  was  an  Englishman,  who  had  come  over  as 
a  tutor  in  Mr.  Francis  Weston's  family,  had  taken  orders 
after  some  years,  and  had  been  elected  rector  of  the 
parish.  His  dut}^  was  to  hold  service  at  the  parish  church 
on  Sunday  morning  for  the  planters.  The  parish  was 
over  twenty  miles  long,  and  some  of  the  parishioners 
lived  on  Sandy  Island,  and  had  to  cross  the  Waccamaw 
River  to  get  to  church,  so  it  was  impracticable  to  have 
more  than  that  one  service.  However,  there  were  up- 
wards of  six  thousand  slaves  in  his  parish,  and  his  heart 
went  out  to  them,  as  to  sheep  without  a  shepherd.  The 
masters  of  the  people  gave  him  every  encouragement,  and 
very  many  of  them  built  very  comfortable  chapels  on  their 
places. 

He  often  went  to  some  neighboring  plantation,  and  held 
service  at  nine  o'clock,  returned  to  the  parish  church  at 
eleven,  dined  on  a  cold  dinner,  and  after  officiating  in  the 
afternoon  in  other  plantations,  would  get  back  home  be- 
tween eleven  and  twelve  on  Sunday  night.  During  the 
week  he  daily  visited  two  or  three  plantations,  and  all  the 
children  at  each  would  be  assembled  at  the  chapel,  and  he 
would  orally  teach  them  the  catechism,  portions  of  the 
church  service,  several  of  the  selections  of  the  Psalms,  and 
many  hymns.  Three,  and  sometimes  four  times  a  week 
he  held  service  at  night,  at  the  last  plantation  he  reached 
in  the  afternoon  of  his  rounds.  On  these  occasions  the 
plantation  hands  were  taken  from  their  tasks  a  couple  of 
hours  before  the  usual  time  for  stopping  work,  were  sent 
home  for  supper,  and  got  themselves  tidy  for  service. 
Most  of  the  masters,  mistresses,  and  children  attended 
these  services.  On  most  of  the  plantations,  the  wife  and 
daughters  of  the  owner  of  these  slaves  regularly  taught 
the  children,  not  only  on  Sunday,  but  three  or  four  times 


A  Plantation  Rector,  83 


a  week,  carrying  on  Mr.  Glennie's  instruction.  The  re- 
sult was  a  great  many  more  communicants  among  the 
slaves  than  among  the  owners. 

It  is  true  there  were  thousands  of  slaves,  and  only  one 
hundred  and  fifty  whites.  Yet  though  these  people  could 
not  read,  they  had  learned  the  service  so  well,  that  the 
responses  were  always  full  and  hearty.  Mr.  Glennie  was 
a  saintly  man,  guileless  as  a  child.  He  was  never  excited, 
and  never  depressed. 

I  think  Mr.  Glennie  was  the  first  parish  priest  in  the 
diocese  of  South  Carolina  who  systematically  ministered 
to  the  slaves  as  part  of  his  parish.  He  was  eventually 
elected  Bishop  of  Africa,  which  appointment  he  wisely  de- 
clined, probably  under  the  advice  of  a  judicious  wife. 

As  to  myself  and  my  studies,  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  study,  and  I  did  it  faithfully.  At  that  time  the 
diocese  of  South  Carolina  was  very  Calvinistic  in  its  theol- 
ogy. Fortunately,  Mr.  Glennie  was  neither  Calvinistic 
nor  very  low  church  in  his  views,  and  therefore  I  had  free 
scope  to  read  the  authors  of  either  school.  Every  instinct 
of  my  nature  rebelled  against  the  Calvinistic  system,  and 
I  never  have  been  able  to  see  how  anyone  could  believe 
understandingly  the  church  catechism  and  be  a  low 
churchman. 

After  I  had  been  with  Mr.  Glennie  some  little  while, 
he  asked  me  to  help  him  in  his  mission  work.  With  my 
assistance,  he  began  to  hold  four  services  on  every  Sunday 
on  four  plantations,  and  the  week-day  catechising  was 
doubled.* 

The  question  naturally  arises,  what  was  the  eventual 

*  I  still  have  the  original  entries  in  my  note-book  of  services 
held,  and  catechisings,  and  they  number  twenty-three  of  the 
former  and  twenty-six  of  the  latter  each  month  for  three  years, 
summer  and  winter.  I  did  it  all  at  my  own  expense.  I  kept  my 
own  horse,  paid  my  board,  and  did  all  that  work,  and  never 
received  one  penny  for  it. 


84  Led  071 ! 

outcome  of  all  this  labor  ?  Until  1862,  Mr.  Glennie  con- 
tinued his  work,  for  after  I  had  left  in  1854,  he  got  a 
deacon  to  help  him,  and  kept  up  what  was  being  done 
while  I  was  there.  In  1862  the  war  had  begun,  and 
everything  like  order  was  broken  up.  The  slaves  were 
removed  into  the  interior  and  scattered.  The  river 
planters  were  all  ruined,  many  of  the  older  men  had  to 
give  up  their  plantations,  some  of  the  younger  men  had 
been  killed,  a  comparatively  few  of  the  emancipated 
negroes  struggled  back.  The  whites  were  unable  to  have 
a  minister  for  themselves,  and  so  far  as  we  know  that 
entire  work  perished. 

How  often  had  I  seen  handsome  equipages,  four-in- 
hand,  driven  to  that  parish  church,  which  after  the  war, 
for  many  years  remained  closed.  There  were  none  to 
minister  at  its  altar,  and  few  to  attend,  or  to  support  a 
clergyman.  As  for  the  poor  negroes,  their  comfortable 
homes  were  gone,  and  such  as  survived  were  mostly 
wandering  vagabonds.  That  dreadful  war  !  Its  conse- 
quences are  seen  on  every  side  in  this  blighted  Southland, 
and  are  grievously  felt  even  after  thirty-two  years  have 

passed. 

In  the  month  of  June,  1852,  I  had  covered  so  much 
ground  in  my  theological  reading  that  I  wrote  to  Bishop 
Gadsden  asking  him  to  appoint  a  time  and  place  for  my 
first  examination.  He  directed  me  to  report  in  Charleston 
immediately.  The  examination  was  appointed  by  him  to 
be  held  at  the  house  of  Rev.  Christian  Hanckel,  D.D., 
Rector  of  Saint  Paul's  Church,  Charleston. 

On  the  day  fixed,  a  somewhat  formidable  array  of 
clergymen  took  their  seats  round  the  room  in  which  I  was 
to  undergo  my  ordeal.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  have 
as  chief  examiner,  the  Rev.  Paul  Trapier,  Rector  of  Saint 
Michael's,  whose  equal  as  a  catechist  I  never  met.  He 
soon  learned  what  books  I  had  studied,  and  by  his  wise 


A  Plantation  Rector,  85 

method  of  questioning,  elicited  replies  from  me  which 
surprised  me  as  to  my  own  knowledge.  What  at  first 
was  a  trial,  and  an  anxiety,  soon  became  a  pleasure,  and 
the  five  or  six  hours  passed  quickly.  When  I  was  asked 
to  retire  to  the  next  room,  to  await  their  decision,  I  left 
the  room  with  the  feeling  that  I  had  passed  satisfactorily. 
In  a  little  while  I  was  recalled,  and  informed  by  Doctor 
Hanckel  that  my  examination  was  a  gratification  to  the 
examiners.  Nearly  all  of  them  were  my  strong  personal 
friends,  and  were  deeply  interested  in  my  success. 

I  afterwards  learned  that  they  had  put  me,  not  only 
through  the  canonical  subjects  required  in  the  first  ex- 
amination, but  also  well  into  those  of  the  second.  Rev.  Dr. 
Hanckel,  Rev.  Paul  Trapier,  and  Rev.  P.  T.  Keith  had 
no  Calvinistic  tendencies,  and  were  rather  pleased  that 
the  young  candidate  was  very  decidedly  pronounced  in 
his  views  on  that  subject. 

On  the  morning  after  the  examination  I  went  down  to 
the  steamer  to  return  to  my  work  and  studies  at  Mr. 
Glennie's  house.  The  steamboat  was  to  stop  at  George- 
town. Little  did  I  imagine  that  morning  that  I  was  on 
the  eve  of  perhaps  the  most  important  event  in  my  life. 

The  day  was  bright,  the  sea  was  calm,  a  gentle  breeze 
cooled  the  atmosphere,  and  a  few  passengers  took  their 
seat  on  the  promenade  deck  under  the  awning.  There 
was  one  young  lady  seated  there,  whom  I  thought  I  knew. 
She  was  dressed  with  exquisite  taste,  and  wore  the 
daintiest  white  sun-bonnet,  so  that  one  saw  as  through  a 
vista,  and  half-hid,  in  the  distance,  her  lovely  Grecian 
face.  I  recognized  Miss  Atkinson,  and  immediately  ap- 
proached, and  took  my  seat  beside  her.  When  we  were 
children  we  had  often  played  together  on  North  Island, 
had  waded  in  the  surf  on  the  beach,  and  romped  over  the 
sand-hills.  Her  father  was  a  rice  planter  on  Winyah  Bay. 
She  had  gone,  while  quite  young,  to  her  uncle,  Mr.  Stead- 


86  Led  On  ! 


man,  afterwards  Admiral  Steadman,  of  the  United  States 
Navy,  to  be  educated  in  Philadelphia,  and  from  that  time 
we  had  very  seldom  met.  The  trip  from  Charleston  to 
Georgetown  was  some  eight  or  nine  hours,  and  we  sat 
together  and  talked  the  whole  way.  She  left  the  steamer 
at  Georgetown,  but  I  continued  my  voyage  to  Waccamaw. 
A  day  or  two  after  my  return  to  Waccamaw  I  went  over 
to  Georgetown,  to  see  my  sister,  who  was  then  living 
there.  That  was  my  pretext  for  the  journey,  but  the  real 
truth  was  that  a  certain  white  bonnet,  lovely  face,  gentle, 
modest,  retiring  manner,  kept  mixing  themselves  up  very 
much  with  my  studies.  I  had  accordingly  told  Mr. 
Glennie  I  would  have  to  let  my  little  darkey  friends  off 
from  a  catechism  or  two,  for  see  my  sister  I  must. 

While  I  stayed  at  Georgetown,  I  found  myself  inclined 
to  see  much  more  of  Miss  Atkinson  than  of  my  sister. 
July  and  August  passed,  and  September  began,  and  de- 
cided indications  were  given  that  my  feelings  were  be- 
coming serious.  So,  on  the  27th  of  September,  1852,  I 
asked  Miss  Atkinson  to  take  a  stroll  with  me  in  the  cool 
of  the  afternoon  and  there  and  then,  on  asking  her  to  be 
my  wife,  I  found  that  I  had  won  her  love  and  confidence. 
There  was  no  reason  why  our  engagement  should  be  a 
long  one,  the  i6th  of  December,  therefore,  the  anniversary 
of  my  father's  wedding-day,  was  fixed  as  the  time  for  our 
marriage. 

This  settled,  I  returned  to  my  studies  and  work  on  the 
Waccamaw,  with  periodical  visits  to  Georgetown,  but  not 
to  see  my  sister.  The  dreaded  yellow  fever  had  raged  in 
Charleston  during  the  summer,  but  late  in  October  it  was 
pronounced  safe  for  strangers  to  enter  that  city,  and  Miss 
Atkinson  and  her  young  brother  Charles  went  there — she 
to  make  preparations  for  the  approaching  event. 

Ten  days  after  they  had  arrived  in  the  city,  I  received 
a  letter  from  the  mother  of  my  fiancee,  saying  that  both 


A  Plantation  Rector.  87 


her  daughter  and  son  had  been  stricken  down  with  the 
yellow  fever.  Fortunately  the  steamer  was  then  in  the 
Waccamaw  River  on  her  way  to  Charleston,  and  of  course 
I  took  passage  for  the  city,  which  I  reached  to  find  both 
patients  suffering  from  a  mild  type  of  the  disease,  from 
which  they  soon  recovered. 

On  the  i6th  of  December,  1852,  Wednesday,  at  i  p.m., 
we  were  married  at  the  church,  Prince  George  Winy  ah 
(where  both  of  us  had  been  baptized  and  confirmed),  by 
the  Rev.  Robt.  T.  Howard,  the  rector.  Immediately 
after  the  ceremony,  we  took  the  steamer  and  went  over 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Glennie  to  the  parsonage  at  Wacca- 
maw. 

My  missionary  zeal  was  soon  put  to  a  somewhat  severe 
test,  for  three  days  after  our  marriage  I  was  summoned 
to  catechise  the  negro  children  and  hold  service  at  Mr. 
Joshua  W.  La  Bruce' s  place  on  Sandy  Island.  I  did  not 
feel  very  much  inclined  to  begin  work  so  soon  again,  but 
Mrs.  Glennie,  who  would  never  hear  of  Mr.  Glennie 
breaking  an  engagement,  insisted  I  ought  to  go.  In  a 
private  consultation  which  my  wife  and  myself  had  held, 
we  entirely  disagreed  with  our  good  hostess  ;  but  when 
the  boat  came  over  for  me  from  Mr.  La  Bruce,  I  was  in- 
duced at  the  call  of  duty  to  leave  my  three  days'  bride. 
It  was  a  raw,  damp  December  day,  and  I  took  a  very  bad 
cold,  and  on  the  26th  of  December,  just  ten  days  after  my 
marriage,  was  a  very  sick  man,  and  remained  so  nearly 
all  the  winter.  But  I  have  never  regretted  this  act  of 
somewhat  Quixotic  zeal. 

When  the  summer  of  1853  came  I  determined  to  take 
my  wife  on  a  wedding  trip,  and  we  left  for  Charleston. 
Under  a  change  of  air  and  diet  my  health  began  to  im- 
prove at  once,  and  we  started  off  for  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER  IX 


BRIGHTER   PROSPECTS   IN   MY  WORK 

The  Episcopal  fimd  of  South  Caroli?ia  —  A  recalcitrant 
Standing  Committee  causes  me  to  store  my  carpets — I  am 
appointed  as  lay  reader  to  a  struggli7ig  7?iission — A  beg- 
garly upper  room — Meatiwhile  I  am  made  a  happy  fathef 
— Brighter  prospects  for  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Com- 
munion—  The  angel  of  7ny  life's  work  —  Incident  iii  my 
parochial  success. 

IN  the  month  of  October,  1853,  Rev.  T.  F.  Davis  was 
consecrated  Bishop  of  the  Diocese  of  South  Carolina, 
and  was  at  the  same  time  rector  of  Grace  Church,  Cam- 
den. Up  to  this  date,  the  diocese  of  South  Carolina  had 
never  paid  its  bishop  one  dollar's  salary.  What  money 
the  diocese  paid  had  always  been  given  to  the  assistant 
of  the  church  of  which  the  bishop  was  rector.  Some  forty 
years  before  the  episcopate  of  Bishop  Davis,  General 
Huger  had  begun  an  Episcopal  fund  whose  accumulations 
had  passed  through  many  vicissitudes.  At  last,  by  the 
efforts  of  Mr.  J.  F.  Blacklock,  enough  had  been  raised  to 
pay  the  bishop  four  thousand  dollars  a  year  and  release 
him  from  the  onerous  duties  of  a  parochial  cure.*  Bishop 
Davis  did  not  know  at  the  time  of  his  consecration  what 

*  I  wrote  a  full  history  of  this  fund,  and  published  it  in  The 
Diocese^  our  Church  paper,  in  1895. 

88 


Brighter  Prospects  in  My  Work.  89 

the  condition  of  the  fund  was.  He  expected  to  continue 
as  rector,  and  wrote  to  me  at  Waccamaw  early  in  Decem- 
ber to  come  to  him  in  Camden  with  a  view  to  becoming 
his  assistant.  To  Camden  accordingly  I  went.  He  pre- 
sented me  to  the  vestry,  and  at  his  request,  I  was  elected 
to  be  his  assistant,  the  appointment  to  take  effect  as  soon 
as  I  was  ordained.  ' '  And  that, ' '  the  bishop  said,  ' '  would 
be  in  Januar>\"  I  could  not  canonically  be  ordained  un- 
til May,  1854,  as  I  was  to  be  under  the  bishop's  immediate 
supervision;  he  thought  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in 
ordaining  me  some  months  in  advance  of  that  date.  So 
certain  were  we  that  the  Standing  Committee  would  make 
no  objection,  that  I  measured  all  the  floors  of  the  parson- 
age, and  on  my  return  to  Charleston,  bought  all  the 
carpets. 

The  application  for  permission  to  ordain  me  in  January 
was  sent  to  the  Committee,  but  an  application  from  Mr. 
R.  W.  Barnwell,  another  candidate  for  orders,  for  a  dis- 
pensation of  several  months,  had  unluckily  come  before 
the  Committee  at  the  same  time.  The  Standing  Com- 
mittee felt  themselves  in  a  quandary,  and  refused  both 
applications.  Bishop  Davis  was  very  much  hurt.  It 
was,  however,  explained  to  him  that  there  were  reasons 
well  known  to  him  why  it  was  inexpedient  to  further  Mr. 
Barnwell's  views,  and  they  could  not  grant  one  dispensa- 
tion while  refusing  the  other. 

The  bishop  took  the  ground  that  the  cases  were  not 
parallel  ;  that  while  it  was  unwise  to  place  so  young  a 
man  as  Barnwell  in  sole  charge  of  a  large  city  parish,  such 
as  Saint  Peter's  Church,  Charleston,  to  which  he  had  been 
elected,  I  was  much  his  senior,  and  was  to  be  with,  and 
under,  the  bishop  of  my  diocese.  The  bishop  then  in- 
formed the  Standing  Committee  that  it  was  the  first,  and 
it  would  be  the  last  request  he  would  ever  make  of  them, 
and  it  was.     He  never  again  made  a  similar  application 


90  Led  On  / 


to  them.  I  can  testify  that  so  long  as  I  was  a  member  of 
the  Standing  Committee,  and  up  to  the  bishop's  death, 
there  never  came  a  communication  from  him  to  that  Com- 
mittee. From  my  own  personal  standpoint,  I  can  trace 
the  hand  of  Providence  in  this  incident.  Had  the  Stand- 
ing Committee  granted  that  dispensation,  I  should  have 
been  ordained  deacon  in  January,  1854,  would  have  gone 
to  Camden,  and  possibly  have  remained  there.  The 
whole  current  of  my  life  would  have  been  changed.  Yes, 
and  the  destiny  of  many  thousands  would  have  been 
changed.  This  is  a  bold  assertion,  but  if  any  reader  fol- 
lows on  as  this  biography  is  unfolded,  he  will  see  that  the 
assertion  is  not  too  strong,  nor  too  bold. 

I  had  the  carpets  stored  away,  wrote  to  the  vestry  of 
Grace  Church,  Camden,  declining  their  call,  and  returned 
to  Waccamaw. 

Just  before  Christmas  I  received  a  letter  from  Rev.  E. 
A.  Wagner,  saying  he  had  resigned  his  position  as  rector 
of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion,  Charleston, 
and  had  named  me  to  the  vestry.  I  replied  that  I  would 
not  be  ordained  until  May,  and  could  not  consider  his 
suggestion.  However,  within  a  week  I  received  an  invi- 
tation from  the  vestry  of  the  church  to  take  charge  as  lay 
reader  until  my  ordination,  when  they  would  elect  me 
their  minister.  Accompan5dng  the  vestry's  invitation, 
was  a  letter  for  me  from  Bishop  Davis,  saying  that  the 
work  at  Charleston  was  an  important  one,  that  he  wished 
no  break  in  its  continuity,  that  as  the  people  could  pay 
me  very  little  salary,  and  I  had  a  private  income  suflBcient 
to  support  myself  while  building  the  church,  and  gather- 
ing a  congregation,  he  earnestly  desired  me  to  take  the 
work  for  which  he  had  no  clergyman  whom  he  could 
recommend.  Regarding  the  bishop's  desire  as  nothing 
less  than  a  command,  I  took  my  wife  to  her  mother  to 
Georgetown,  on  the  2d  of  January,  1854,  and  going  my- 


Brighter  Prospects  in  My  Work.  91 

self  to  Charleston,  sought  out  the  chairman  of  the  vestry, 
Doctor  Phillips,  whom  I  questioned  about  the  parish  of  the 
Holy  Communion.  He  let  me  know  that  there  was  no 
parish  in  reality  and  no  church. 

The  so-called  parish  of  the  Holy   Communion,    as   I 
learned,   had  originated  in  the  following  way:     Bishop 
Bowen  lived  in  the  upper  wards  of  the  city,  and  desiring 
a  chapel  of  ease,  had,  before  he  died,  held  a  few  services 
in  his  own  house  in  Ashley  Street.    To  take  up  this  work, 
Bishop  Gadsden  had  called  a  meeting  on  November  7, 
1848,  and  organized  a  parish  with  wardens  and  vestry. 
One  clergyman  after  another  had  been  trying  their  hands 
at  building  it  up,  and  in  six  years  they  had  gotten  so  far 
as  to  buy  a  lot,  for  which  they  had  paid  three  thousand 
dollars,   and  to  lay  the  foundations  of  a  small  cruciform 
gothic  edifice  of  forty-five  pew  capacity.     Things  were 
now  at  a  standstill.     After  telling  me  this,  Doctor  Phillips 
took  me  to  see  the  building  in  which  the  little  congrega- 
tion were  worshipping.     It  stood  on  the  grounds  of  the 
United  States  Arsenal.     Major  Hagner,  the  commandant 
at  the  arsenal,  was  an  Episcopalian,  and  had  loaned  an 
unoccupied  storeroom  to  the  congregation.     We  climbed 
up  a  rough  pair  of  stairs,  mostly  a  ladder,  and  found  our- 
selves in  this  desolate  room,  a  place  about  seventy-five  by 
thirty-five  feet.     It  was  neither  ceiled  nor  plastered,  there 
were  no  sashes  in  the  windows,  no  carpet,  and  no  stove. 
A  little  rail  divided  off"  the  sanctuary  at  one  end,  a  curtain 
hung  over  the  place  for  a  melodeon,  and  on  one  side  was 
a  small  font.     Bare  benches  filled  the  rest  of  the  forlorn- 
looking  place. 

I  asked  Doctor  Phillips  if  this  was  the  result  of  six 
years  ?  The  warden  answered  very  hopefully.  He  was 
quite  sanguine,  and  did  not  seem  to  think  the  work 
offered  me  was  unpromising  to  a  young  man.  I  took  care 
not  to  let  him  know  my  opinion  about  it.     I  promised  to 


92  Led  On  / 

look  over  the  neighborhood,  and  advertise  service  for  the 
following  Sunday. 

The  four  following  days  I  went  over  the  ground,  and 
found  that  from  Boundary  Street,  as  Calhoun  was  then 
called,  to  the  limits  of  the  Neck,  as  it  was  termed,  from 
King  Street  to  the  Ashley  River,  there  was  no  place  of 
worship  of  any  description,  except  Saint  Paul's  Church, 
and  the  congregation  there  was  principally  a  congregation 
of  planters'  families,  who  came  to  the  city  in  summer.  At 
the  same  time  there  was  evidently  a  good  mission  field,  so 
I  determined  to  give  it  a  trial. 

Sunday  came,  a  raw,  drizzly,  gloomy  day.  I  went  up 
to  the  arsenal  and  climbed  up  the  stairs.  I  found  the 
room  was  nearly  empty.  The  congregation  in  fact  con- 
sisted of  Doctor  Phillips,  one  or  two  other  adults,  and  a 
child,  Jane  Waring.  I  w^aited  some  ten  minutes  beyond 
the  hour  advertised  for  service,  and  by  that  time  just 
eight  persons  were  on  the  benches.  After  service,  I  went 
to  my  old  aunt' s,  where  my  mother  was,  feeling  very  blue. 
And  indeed  all  the  ladies  protested  against  my  taking  the 
position,  one  of  my  aunts  being  ver>^  emphatic,  and  say- 
ing I  would  be  a  fool  to  waste  my  3^oung  life  on  a  broken- 
down  enterprise  that  had  not  the  faintest  prospect  of 
success.  That  Sunday  afternoon,  however,  it  cleared  off, 
and  to  my  surprise  I  found  some  twenty-two  persons  in 
my  new  mission  chapel.  The  congregation  of  the  morn- 
ing had  acted  as  missionaries,  giving  glowing  accounts  of 
the  new  lay  reader,  and  these  curious  people  had  doubtless 
come  to  see  what  sort  of  a  young  man  he  was.  I  was  in- 
troduced to  my  flock,  only  one  of  them,  a  relative  named 
H.  Laurens  Toomer,  a  member  of  the  vestry,  being  known 
to  me.  After  the  service  was  over  I  took  a  decisive  step. 
Calling  Doctor  PhilHps  apart,  I  said  to  him,  *  *  I  left  my 
wife  at  Georgetown  in  ill  health.  I  am  starting  to-morrow 
for  that  city,  but  w^ill  be  back  on  Friday.     I  can  under- 


Brighter  Prospects  in  My  Work.  93 

take  the  work  in  this  place  on  the  following  conditions. 
If  I  see  all  these  windows  on  my  return  filled  with  sashes, 
a  good  stove  set  up,  a  carpet  up  the  middle  of  this  room, 
and  a  door  shutting  off  the  draught  from  the  stairs,  I  will 
put  a  notice  in  Saturday's  paper,  announcing  this  improve- 
ment and  advertising  divine  service.  If  these  improve- 
ments are  not  made,  I  shall  put  a  notice  in  the  paper  to 
the  effect  that  I  will  officiate  here  no  longer  ;  for  I  could 
not  ask  people  to  come  to  a  place  where  they  would  catch 
pneumonia." 

I  almost  took  the  old  Doctor's  breath  away. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  we  have  been  here  six  years  and 
we  have  not  had  any  of  these  things. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  and  after  six  years  where  are  you 
now  ?  Now,  if  you  are  in  earnCvSt  about  this  mission,  I 
will  be  in  earnest,  too.  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  make  it  a 
success,  but  you  will  have  to  show  me  that  you  mean 
business.  Among  the  members  of  your  vestrj^  there  is 
quite  means  enough  to  furnish  all  I  ask.  Do  as  I  sug- 
gest, and  we  will  go  ahead  ;  I  will  accept  your  invitation. 
Refuse  to  do  it,  and  I  need  not  come  back  again." 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  I  think  I  can  guarantee  you 
all  that  you  demand." 

I  left  for  Georgetown  on  Monday,  the  9th,  and  on 
arriving  at  the  wharf,  I  noticed  that  I  was  the  subject  of 
observation,  and  as  soon  as  I  got  ashore,  several  parties 
came  up  and  congratulated  me  upon  being  the  father  of 
a  fine  boy.  The  mother,  they  said,  was  doing  well.  On 
reaching  the  house,  I  found  that  at  the  very  hour  that  I 
was  holding  in  the  upper  room  of  the  arsenal  the  first 
service  of  what  was  to  become  the  influential  parish  of 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion,  my  first-born  son 
had  come  into  the  world — a  son  to  whom  God,  in  His  own 
Divine  Will,  committed  a  special  function,  namely,  that 
of  inspiring  a  work  which  has  blessed  thousands,  and  is 


94 


Led  On  ! 


still  going  on.  This  work,  in  all  human  probability, 
would  not  have  been  attempted  by  me  if  that  son  had  not 
lived,  and  had  not,  by  his  death,  awoke  in  me  a  passionate 
longing  to  help  the  children  of  others. 

Amid  the  great  rejoicing  in  the  house  that  day,  January 
8,  1854,  the  little  stranger  was  to  be  given  to  God,  who 
had  sent  him  to  gladden  our  hearts.  The  following  Fri- 
day I  returned  to  Charleston,  and  going  immediately  to 
the  arsenal,  found  workmen  busy  there.  A  stove  had 
been  set  up.  The  sashes  were  nearly  all  in,  the  ceiling 
was  going  on,  and  a  strip  of  carpet  stood  in  a  roll  ready  to 
be  laid  down.  The  carpenters  promised  to  finish  the 
work  by  Saturday  night.  I  accordingly  repaired  to  the 
newspaper  office,  and  wrote  an  advertisement,  saying  that 
the  room  had  been  made  comfortable,  and  inviting  all  who 
were  interested  in  the  mission  to  attend  the  next  Sunday, 
as  regular  services  might  be  expected  hereafter. 

On  Sunday  morning,  the  congregation  had  swelled  to 
over  fifty,  and  in  the  afternoon  to  seventy-five.  Of  course 
I  was  very  much  encouraged,  for  I  realized  that  if  so  many 
came  to  a  service  conducted  by  a  lay  reader,  there  was 
certainly  need  for  the  mission.  The  following  Sunday, 
the  2 2d,  I  gave  notice  that  I  would  at  once  organize  a 
Sunday-school  for  white  children  in  the  morning,  and  for 
colored  children  in  the  afternoon.  I  requested  that  all 
who  had  children  to  send  would  remain  after  service  with 
such  of  the  congregation  as  would  help  as  teachers.  Quite 
a  moderate-sized  class  was  quickly  formed,  and  during  the 
week  I  began  a  house-to-house  visitation.  I  commenced 
at  Boundary  Street,  visiting  as  many  houses  as  I  could, 
and  gathering  a  good  number  of  children's  names.  I 
notified  several  who  had  volunteered  to  be  teachers,  and 
we  opened  with  a  Sunday-school  for  the  whites.  It  took 
a  few  weeks  to  let  the  negroes  know  that  there  would  be 
a  Sunday-school  for  them,  but  when  we  were  well  under 


Brighter  Prospects  m  My  Work.  95 

way,  we  had  a  large  gathering  of  negro  children.  The 
teachers  of  the  white  school  all  enlisted  for  the  colored, 
and  I  had  to  call  in  more.  We  had  started  so  well,  that  an 
enthusiasm  was  created,  and  the  room  soon  filled  up  pretty 
well.  I  went  into  ever}^  hovel  in  all  that  section  of  the 
town,  and  found  among  many  whites  a  dense  ignorance, 
scarcely  conceivable.  Many  nights  did  I  spend  going 
from  one  lowly  habitation  to  another,  and  with  a  light- 
wood  torch  in  one  hand  and  a  Bible  in  the  other,  read  to 
them  the  Word  of  God,  sung  a  hymn,  and  prayed,  and  so 
induced  a  number  to  come  to  service  who  had  not  been 
to  church  for  years.  My  congregation  was  largely  com- 
posed of  very  poor  people,  with  here  and  there  a  family 
of  a  higher  class.  Among  the  friends  of  some  of  my  vestry 
was  a  Presbyterian  and  his  wife,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  B.  He 
heard  a  good  deal  said  about  the  rapid  strides  the  mission 
was  making,  and  living  in  the  neighborhood,  he  once 
dropped  in  to  service  with  his  wife.  They  came  once  and 
again  ;  he  became  interested  in  the  work,  and  his  wife 
being  a  great  musician,  and  he  having  a  fine  voice,  they 
offered  to  take  charge  of  the  music  for  me.  A  melodeon 
was  purchased,  and  a  choir  formed.  They  attached  them- 
selves to  the  parish,  and  being  not  much  older  than  myself, 
we  became  fast  friends. 


% 


CHAPTER  X 

A  HARD    APPRENTICESHIP 

I  take  permajient  abode  with  my  family  i7i  Charlesto7i — Am, 
ordai?ied  deaco?i  and  preach  viy  first  sermo7i — /  begin  to 
thiyik  of  building  a  church — My  appeal  for  help  offeiids 
some  conservatives —  The  liberality  of  others — The  ''''amende 
ho7iorable  " — Yellow  fever  ^  and  fny  experieiice  of  it. 

WE  had  our  son  baptized  John  Toomer  on  the  24th 
of  February,  1854,  and  being  satisfied  that  the 
work  I  was  engaged  in  would  be  made  successful,  I 
brought  my  family  down  to  Charleston,  and  purchased  a 
house  in  Rutledge  Street.  On  the  i6th  of  May  of  the 
same  year  I  was  ordained  deacon  by  Bishop  Davis.  The 
Rev.  T.  P.  Keith,  who  had  baptized  me  in  Georgetown, 
was  my  presenter. 

I  preached  my  first  sermon  as  an  ordained  minister  on 
Sunday  the  20th  of  Ma}^  and  my  text  was  from  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles,  eighth  chapter,  fifth  verse  :  "  Then 
Philip  went  down  to  the  city  of  Samaria,  and  preached 
Christ  unto  them. ' '  I  still  have  the  original  manuscript. 
The  sermon  was  preached  in  the  upper  room  at  the  arsenal. 
I  have  never  found  any  other  theme  than  that  which 
Philip  took  in  all  these  forty  years,  and  I  trust  my  dear 
Lord  will  tell  me  I  preached  Him  faithfully.  The  build- 
ing was  very  full,  for  of  course  I  had  many  relatives  and 

96 


A  Hard  Apprenticeship.  97 

friends  who  came  to  hear  the  new  young  minister.  I  was 
in  my  twenty-sixth  year.  I  was  dreadfully  scared  at  first, 
but  as  I  warmed  up,  I  know  I  forgot  myself,  and  remem- 
bered that  I  was  there  to  preach  Christ,  not  myself,  and  at 
the  close  of  the  service  was  much  encouraged  by  the  warm 
greetings  I  had  from  many  of  my  hearers.  The  comment 
that  lasted  longest  in  my  memory  was  an  expression  of 
sympathy,  "  He  promises  well,  but  how  sad  it  is  that  so 
delicate-looking  a  man  should  have  gone  into  the  min- 
istry !  His  life  will  be  so  short,"  and  now  I  know  of  but 
two  persons  except  myself  who  were  at  that  service  and 
still  survive.     So  little  do  we  know  of  the  future  ! 

*  Soon  after  this  I  asked  the  vestry  to  call  a  meeting, 
to  review  what  they  had  done,  and  find  out  what  they 
proposed  to  do,  for  I  had  no  idea  of  staying  permanently 
in  the  upper  room  at  the  arsenal.  Some  eight  hundred 
dollars  had  been  collected  by  me  in  Georgetown  ;  this  I 
held  in  reserve  until  I  discovered  the  vestry's  views.  I 
soon  found  out  that  they  had  already  purchased  for  $3000  a 
lot  on  Ashley  Street,  corner  of  Cannon,  and  had  laid  the 
foundation  of  a  small  cruciform  building,  which  was  to  have 
narrow  lancet  windows,  and  to  contain  forty-five  pews.  I 
thought  the  situation  unfortunate,  and  so  it  proved,  and 
will  prove  until  the  city  is  built  up  far  beyond  its  present 
limits  with  substantial  buildings.  On  seeing  the  plan,  I  told 
them  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  that  of  a  pretty  village  chapel, 
set  in  a  surrounding  of  trees,  but  very  much  out  of  place  at 
the  corner  of  a  city  thoroughfare  ;    that  in  this  warm 

^  The  entire  salary  paid  by  the  congregation  to  the  lay  reader 
and  minister  for  the  year  had  been  $236.  The  Society  for  the  Ad- 
vancement of  Christianity,  seeing  our  progress,  voted  to  the  vestry 
for  salary  $250.  I  had  gone  to  them  without  the  offer  of  a  dollar, 
and  though  I  could  live  without  their  salary,  as  soon  as  we  began 
to  get  a  congregation  I  told  the  vestry  that  it  would  be  a  better 
parish  if  it  learned  at  once  to  help  itself.  The  total  offering  for 
the  first  year  was  I423. 70. 


98  Led  On  I 


climate  the  congregation  would  be  steamed,  and  besides, 
I  did  not  propose  to  devote  my  young  days  to  the  building 
of  a  church  that  would  always  be  a  mission.  I  wanted  a 
church  which  in  time  would  be  self-supporting,  and  de- 
clined to  serve,  if  that  plan  was  carried  out.  The  vestry 
were  as  much  taken  aback  as  when  I  requested  that  the 
upper  room  should  be  made  comfortable,  but  my  business 
training  now  came  into  use.  I  was  firm,  and  would  yield 
to  no  arguments.  The  result  was  that  the  plan  was 
abandoned,  and  Messrs.  Jones  &  Lee  employed  to  furnish 
another.  I  was  not  in  the  vestry,  and  Messrs.  Jones  & 
Lee's  design  was  adopted  without  consulting  me.  When 
I  saw  it,  I  told  them  that  it  was  that  of  a  respectable- 
looking  omnibus  stable,  but  did  not  look  much  like  a 
church.  However,  I  would  build  it,  provided,  when  the 
congregation  could  afford  it,  a  church  that  was  a  church 
should  be  built.  I  then  brought  out  my  Georgetown 
subscription,  and  told  them  we  must  begin  at  once.  This 
was  on  the  2d  of  July,  1854. 

On  reviewing  my  work  to  date,  I  found  that  I  had 
collected  from  the  8th  of  January  to  the  2d  of  July, 
three  thousand  six  hundred  and  sixty-seven  dollars  ; 
that  the  congregation  now  numbered  seventy-nine  whites, 
and  thirty-seven  blacks  ;  that  there  were  thirty-one  white 
children  and  thirty-five  black  in  the  two  Sunday-schools; 
that  the  church  had  twenty-one  communicants.* 

After  visiting  from  house  to  house  to  get  aid,  I  asked 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Keith,  Rector  of  Saint  Michael's,  to  let  me 

♦  I  remember  the  first  day  I  went  into  Broad  Street  to  ask  for 
aid  to  build  a  church,  a  gentleman  whom  I  approached  met  me  by 
sajdng : 

"  The  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion  ?  Why  that  is  a  chimera 
floating  in  the  brains  of  a  few  up-town  people  which  will  never  be 
realized  !  " 

**  Well,"  I  said,  "chimera  or  not,  I  have  ten  thousand  dollars 


A  Hai^d  A pp7' entices  hip.  99 

preach  in  behalf  of  the  church.  He  consented,  and  I 
preached,  he  announcing  there  would  be  no  offering.  My 
text  was  Titus,  third  chapter,  part  of  first  verse,  "  Be 
ready  to  every  good  work. ' '     I  began  by  saying  : 

*'  A  beggar  again.  Methinks  I  hear  this  thought  run- 
ning through  the  minds  of  my  hearers.  But  I  wish  to 
say  that  I  am  no  beggar.  I  am  a  minister  of  the  Church 
of  which  you  are  members.  I  believe  what  you  believe, 
and  I  am  charitable  enough  to  suppose  that  we  are  actu- 
ated by  similar  motives.  My  duty  is  to  show  that  the 
work  I  present  is  a  good  work.  Then  your  duty  is  to  see 
how  ready  you  are  according  to  your  ability  to  help  it." 

I  then  told  of  the  work,  its  needs,  what  we  had  done, 
its  prospects,  and  then  very  practically  showed  how  each 
pew  could  help. 

Concluding,  I  said  that  the  rector  had  announced  that 
there  would  be  no  offering,  and  I  did  not  wish  one  ;  I 
needed  more  than  the  small  change  usually  put  into  the 
alms  basin,  and  requested  any  who  were  interested  to 
send  their  subscriptions  to  Messrs.  R.  &  B.  Mr.  R.  was 
one  of  the  vestry,  Mr.  B.  was  a  vestryman  of  Saint  Paul's. 
Next  day  I  went  to  the  office  of  Messrs.  R.  &  B.  some- 
what fearful,  for  when  I  got  back  to  the  vestryroom,  Mr. 
Keith  did  not  say  one  word  about  the  sermon,  and  under 
Saint  Michael's  porch  a  large  gathering  were  evidently 
discussing  the  sermon.  I  touched  my  hat,  and  passed 
on,  no  one  saying  a  word.  As  I  entered  Mr.  R.'s  office, 
the  old  gentleman  threw  up  his  spectacles  on  his  head, 

of  my  own,  and  if  it  becomes  necessary  I  will  put  this  sum  into  it, 
and  we  will  see  if  this  chimera  cannot  be  made  a  reality." 

He  looked  at  me  steadily  and  asked  : 

*'  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  and  do  you  mean  that  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  do,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  replied,  "if  that  is  the  way  you  are  going  at  it, 
come  to  my  office  and  take  my  subscription." 

So  I  gathered  the  first  money. 


(( 
(( 
( ( 


lOO  Led  On  ! 

and  said,  "  The  very  man  I  wish  to  see.  Now  I  look 
upon  you  as  a  son,  and  I  wash  you  to  go  home  and  burn 
that  sermon." 

Then  he  gave  me  such  a  talking  to  that  only  his  preface 
made  me  stand  it. 

"  You  will  not  get  a  dollar,"  he  said.  '*  I  will  not  give 
you  one  myself. ' ' 

When  I  got  a  chance  to  get  a  word  in  myself,  I  said, 
' '  Mr.  R. ,  was  my  sermon  scriptural  ?  ' ' 
Oh,  yes,  entirely  so. ' ' 
Was  it  clear  ?  did  I  make  out  my  case  ?  ' ' 
Yes,"  he  said,  with  animation  ;  "  I  did  not  think  that 
you  could  write  such  a  sermon. ' ' 

* '  Was  it  courteous  ?  "  I  asked  ;  * '  for  if  it  was  not,  I 
should  like  to  apologize." 

"  It  was,"  he  said,  '*  perfectly  so." 

"  Well,  then,"  I  said,  "  it  was  scriptural,  it  was  clear, 
and  it  was  courteous  ;  whj^,  then,  should  I  burn  it  ?  " 

**  Oh,  but  to  think  of  a  young  man  standing  up,  and 
talking  to  Saint  Michael's  people,  old  Saint  Michael's,  in 
that  plain,  practical  way,  telling  them  what  they  ought  to 
do,  and  then  how  to  do  it.  Why,  who  ever  heard  of  such 
a  thing  ?  If  that  is  the  way  you  are  going  to  preach,  you 
will  ruin  yourself.  You  will  not  get  a  cent.  Go  home 
and  burn  that  sermon,  burn  it,  so  that  you  can  never 
preach  it  again." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I  thought  I  had  been  ordained  for 
that  very  purpose,  to  tell  people  what  they  ought  to  do, 
and  how  they  could  do  it.  I  will  not  burn  it,  and  bid  you 
good  morning." 

I  was  terribly  sore.  I  strolled  up  Broad  Street,  and  at 
the  door  of  the  Bank  of  Charleston,  I  met  the  president,  a 
noble  layman. 

"  Good  morning,  my  young  friend,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I 
am  glad  to  see  you.     I  congratulate  you  on  that  sermon 


A  Hard  App7'e7iticeship.  lOi 

yesterday  ;  you  have  made  a  profound  impression  ;  you 
will  build  the  church.  The  sermon  has  been  on  ever>"- 
one's  lips,  and  only  in  praise." 

"Why,  Mr.  I.  K.  Sass,"  I  said,  ''  You  take  my  breath 
away.  I  have  just  come  from  Mr.  R." — and  I  repeated 
the  conversation. 

"  Pshaw,"  he  answered,  "  our  friend  knows  more  about 
selling  rice  than  he  does  about  sermons.  Come  in,  and  I 
will  show  you  whether  you  will  get  a  dollar. ' ' 

He  drew  his  check  for  one  hundred  and  bade  me  God- 
speed.    I  felt  better. 

The  next  friend  I  met  was  Mr.  Charles  D.  Carr,  who 
had  been  my  tailor  since  I  was  a  boy.  He  called  me  into 
his  store,  and  came  up  rubbing  his  hands  and  slapping 
them  together,  saying,  "  I  was  never  more  delighted  in 
church  in  my  life.  It  was  good  to  see  a  young  man  get 
up  in  old  Saint  Michael's  Church,  and  preach  a  sermon 
like  that.  You  did  shake  up  the  bones  !  Why,  you 
made  them  all  look  up  and  wonder. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said,  "  and  let  me  give  3'ou  my  check. 
Here  is  one  hundred  dollars,  and  I  will  duplicate  it  when- 
ever you  need  it. 

"  Now,"  he  continued,  ''  I  wish  you  to  go  and  see  Mr. 
Jas.  L.  Petigru  ;  he  was  delighted.  Did  you  see  that 
crowd  under  Saint  Michael's  porch  when  you  passed? 
They  had  gathered  around  Mr.  Petigru,  who  was  speak- 
ing in  the  highest  commendation.  You  must  go  and  see 
him." 

I  left  him,  and  as  I  reached  the  corner  of  Saint  Michael's 
Church,  Mr.  Petigru  himself  turned  out  of  Meeting,  into 
Broad  Street. 

As  we  met,  he  said,  ' '  I  believe  I  am  speaking  to  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Porter  ;  I  wish  to  congratulate  you  on  your  effort  yes- 
terday ;  that  is  the  best  sermon  of  the  kind  I  have  ever 
heard,  and  if  I  could  have  gotten  to  the  foot  of  the  pulpit 


I02  Led  On  ! 

without  making  us  both  too  conspicuous,  I  would  have 
congratulated  you  before  all  the  congregation.  Why,  sir, 
you  came  with  a  definite  object,  you  stated  it  forcibly,  and 
then  proved  to  us  it  was  our  duty  to  help  it,  and  how  the 
least  person  in  the  church  could  do  his  or  her  part." 

Mr.  Petigru  stood  at  the  forefront  of  the  bar,  and  was  a 
power  in  this  community,  and  he  overpowered  and  con- 
fused me.  "  Your  church  is  built,  sir,"  he  continued, 
"  and  if  you  always  preach  like  that  I  prophesy  a  success- 
ful ministry. ' ' 

Taking  from  his  pocket  a  check,  he  handed  it  to  me. 
It  was  a  large  donation  from  Mr.  Petigru,  for  he  was  not 
a  man  of  much  means.  It  may  well  be  supposed  that  I 
went  home  in  good  spirits,  to  gladden  my  young  wife, 
who  had  passed  an  anxious  morning. 

It  was  about  six  weeks  after  I  had  been  to  the  counting- 
house  of  Messrs.  R.  &  B.,  that  I  thought  I  would  go 
there  again. 

Mr.  R.  met  me  very  cordially,  saying  I  had  not  been 
there  for  a  long  while. 

I  made  some  excuse.  ' '  You  were  not  a  good  prophet, '  * 
I  added  ;  "  I  did  not  burn  that  sermon,  and  I  have  eight 
thousand  dollars  to  my  credit  on  it.  Mr.  Petigru  was 
very  complimentary. ' '  I  knew  that  Mr.  Petigru  was  Mr. 
R.'s  ideal,  and  had  much  influence  over  him.  '*  Indeed," 
he  replied.  "  Well,  before  you  go,  I  wish  to  add  my  mite 
to  the  sum,"  and  drew  his  check  for  five  hundred  dollars. 

The  summer  of  1854  came  on,  and  with  it  the  dreaded 
yellow  fever.  We  were  short-handed  ministerially,  some 
of  the  rectors  being  away,  and  I  had  a  great  deal  to  do. 

I  was  overworked,  and  caught  the  dreaded  pestilence 
three  days  after  ground  had  been  broken  to  lay  the  foun- 
dations of  the  new  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion.  My 
old  physician.  Dr.  W.  T.  Wragg,  who  had  attended  me 
in  typhoid  fever  when  a  boy,  was  soon  at  my  bedside,  and 


A  Hard  Apprenticeship.  103 

told  me  mine  was  a  mild  case.  "Well,"  I  said,  **  I 
thought  one  born  near  the  swamps  of  Carolina  stood  in 
no  danger. ' ' 

On  Friday  he  thought  me  so  much  better  that  he 
directed  stimulants.  I  fancied  champagne.  My  wife 
gave  me  a  wineglassful,  and  I  felt  so  much  worse,  that  I 
thought  I  had  not  taken  enough,  and  she  gave  me  another 
wineglass.  As  I  swallowed  it,  it  seemed  like  a  ball  of  fire 
at  the  pit  of  my  stomach.  I  at  once  became  desperately 
sick.  The  Doctor  was  sent  for,  and  was  dismayed  at  the 
change.  He  tried  many  remedies  and  finally  he  said, 
"  I  have  tried  stimulants  and  alkali,  let  us  try  acids." 
A  lemon  could  not  be  found  in  the  city,  but  oranges 
were  got.  My  tongue  was  like  a  piece  of  hard  dry 
leather.  I  could  not  extend  it  beyond  my  lips.  My 
wife  squeezed  a  plug  of  orange,  and  wherever  the  juice 
fell  it  released  my  tongue.  I  motioned  for  more.  It  was 
given  me,  and  the  relief  was  instantaneous,  so  that  I  fell 
asleep. 

As  soon  as  I  was  able  to  move,  the  vestry  insisted  on 
my  going  into  the  country  to  recruit. 


CHAPTER  XI 

HARD  WORK  AND   FOREIGN  TRAVEIy 

/  am  ordained  priest — A  second  son  is  born  to  me — The 
Church  of  the  Holy  Conwiunioyi  finished  and  consecrated 
—  The  growth  of  the  work — My  wife^s  health  beghis  to 
fail — Our  voyage  to  Europe — I  found  a  successful  Indus- 
trial School — Its  history  a7id  work — /  become  an  army 
contractor — A  laughable  incident. 

THE  building  of  my  new  church  went  on  during  the 
winter.  The  convention  of  the  diocese  was  held  in 
the  following  May  in  Camden,  and  I  was  there  ordained 
to  the  priesthood,  in  Grace  Church,  on  the  13th  of  May. 
A  second  son,  Theodore  Atkinson,  was  born  to  me  on 
July  25th  ;  he  was  baptized  in  the  arsenal.*  On  the  26th 
of  October  my  church  was  finished  and  consecrated  by 
Bishop  Davis,  Rev.  Paul  Trapier  preaching  the  sermon. 
There  were  fourteen  priests  beside  the  bishop  present,  and 
all  save  the  Rev.  Dr.  C.  C.  Pinckney  and  myself  are  dead. 
Thus  in  one  year,  nine  months,  and  eighteen  days  from 
the  day  I  held  my  first  service,  in  the  upper  room  of  the 
arsenal,  a  church  had  been  built,  and  we  had  moved  in 
with  sixty-six  white  adults  as  members,  sixty-eight  chil- 
dren, forty-three  white  communicants  and  five  colored. 

*  He  has  been  in  the  ministry  since  1879,  and  for  the  past  twelve 
years  has  been  my  assistant. 

104 


Hard  Work  a7id  Foreig7i  Travel.         105 

A  total  change  took  place  in  the  personnel  of  the  con- 
gregation as  the  months  went  on  as  a  higher  class  of 
people  came  in,  and  most  of  the  very  poor  dropped  out.  I 
did  all  I  could  to  keep  them,  but  it  seems  impossible  to 
keep  that  class  in  a  congregation  of  well-to-do  people. 

The  indications  of  growth  in  our  work  continued,  and 
were  seen  in  the  increase  of  offerings.  The  third  year 
they  amounted  to  $1,833.80.  The  fourth  year  the  rector's 
salary  went  up  from  $300  to  $975,  and  the  offerings  of  the 
parish  amounted  to  $4,337  in  1857.* 

In  the  summer  of  1857,  0^^  young  son  Theodore  was 
desperately  ill,  and  his  devoted  mother  seldom  had  him 
out  of  her  arms.  That  illness  of  the  child  cost  us  much 
in  after  years.  He  had  scarcely  recovered  when  I  was 
summoned  to  Femandina,  Florida,  where  my  sister,  the 
wife  of  Dr.  I.  F.  Lessesne,  resided.  She  had  lost  her  eldest 
child,  a  most  interesting  girl.  On  my  return  to  Charles- 
ton we  were  caught  in  a  cyclone,  and  had  to  anchor  in 
one  of  the  creeks  which  flow  through  the  marshes  between 
Fernandina  and  Savannah.  I  was  a  week  in  getting  back 
to  Charleston.  Mr.  George  A.  Trenholm  met  me  in  his 
carriage  at  dajdight  at  the  station,  and  on  the  way  home 
told  me  that  Mrs.  Porter  was  lying  at  the  point  of  death. 
She  had  been  taken  ill  three  days  before,  and  they  could 

*  I  find  in  the  parish  register  an  entry  made  by  myself,  that  I 
built  a  house  on  Gadsden  Green,  on  a  lot  given  me  in  trust  by  Mr. 
Theo.  D.  Wagner,  and  rented  the  double  house  to  two  poor  families 
at  $2.00  per  month.  This  is  a  beginning  of  what  I  meant  to  be  a 
series  of  homes  for  the  poor  at  moderate  rents,  long  before  Mr. 
Peabody's  munificent  gift  for  the  same  object  in  London.  The 
war  came  on  three  years  afterwards,  and  no  rent  was  ever  collected. 
I  paid  the  taxes  for  twenty-one  years,  when  by  consent  of  Mr. 
Wagner,  and  by  authority  of  the  court,  I  vacated  the  trust  in  1879, 
and  sold  the  lot  and  house  for  a  trifle.  After  the  war  it  was  im- 
possible to  carry  out  my  plans.  This  was  one  of  the  many  good 
things  destroyed  by  that  awful  war. 


io6  Led  On  ! 


not  communicate  with  me,  for  they  did  not  know  what 
had  become  of  the  steamer  in  which  I  had  sailed.  For 
weeks  my  wife  hovered  between  life  and  death,  but  in  the 
winter  rallied  somewhat,  though  she  never  quite  recovered 
her  health. 

In  the  spring  of  1858,  Mrs.  Porter  continuing  very 
feeble.  Doctor  Wragg  desired  us  to  go  abroad,  and  the 
vestry,  of  which  Mr.  George  Trenholm  and  Mr.  Theo.  D. 
Wagner,  were  members,  insisted  that  we  should  go.  The 
Doctor  ordered  a  sea  voyage ;  and  so  we  sailed  on  the  9th 
of  June  in  a  fine  barque,  the  Mary  Washington,  and 
reached  Liverpool  in  twenty-one  days.  My  salary  had 
gone  up  to  one  thousand  dollars,  and  I  was  quite  able  to 
take  the  trip,  but  Mr.  Wagner  sent  before  me  a  check  for 
fifteen  hundred  dollars,  saying  he  wished  me  to  have  a 
perfectly  easy  time.  Mr.  Wm.  L.  Trenholm,  son  of  Mr. 
G.  A.  Trenholm,  afterwards  Comptroller  of  the  Currency, 
U.  S.  Government,  and  now  president  of  the  Security  Com- 
pany, New  York,  was  living  at  Aigburth,  near  Liverpool, 
and  most  hospitably  entertained  us  for  some  time.  We 
travelled  through  England,  Scotland,  France  and  Switzer- 
land, and  returned,  sailing  on  the  i8th  of  October,  in  the 
steamship  Persia,  for  New  York.  With  Mr.  Wagner's  gift, 
the  fifth  year  of  our  parish  life,  the  offerings  amounted 
to  $5,700.  As  I  look  back  it  seems  to  me  my  Broad  Street 
friend's  chimera  had  substantially  materialized. 

While  my  congregation  had  totally  changed,  and  instead 
of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion  being  a  church  for 
the  poor,  a  great  deal  of  wealth  had  gathered  into  it,  I 
continued  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  poor,  and  in  my 
visits,  I  found  one  class  for  whom  no  provision  had  been 
made.  I  doubt  if  any  city  ever  existed  where  every  con- 
ceivable provision  was  better,  or  more  thoroughly  made, 
for  the  relief  of  poverty  in  general  than  here  in  the  City  of 
Charleston.     There  was  a  Fuel  Society,  so  that  the  poor 


Hard  Work  and  Foreign  Travel.         107 

could  get  all  the  wood  they  needed,  Garment  Society, 
Hat  and  Shoe  Society,  a  Benevolent  Society,  which  looked 
after  the  homeless  and  sick,  and  all  these  works  were  the 
united  efforts  of  the  non-Roman  bodies,  chiefly,  however, 
Episcopalians  and  Presbj^terians  ;  for  the  wealth  of  the 
community  were  in  these  bodies.  But  I  found  there  was 
no  provision  for  poor  women  who  wanted  work,  but  were 
very  unfitted  to  do  good  sewing,  though  they  were  willing 
to  work  if  they  had  it.  So  I  told  my  people  if  they  would 
let  me  have  their  plain  sewing,  I  would  have  it  done  for 
them.     It  was  an  expensive  experiment  for  me. 

My  scheme  was  largely  responded  to,  and  bundles  of 
cloth  were  sent  to  me,  but  when  the  work  came  back  if  it 
did  ( ! !)  it  was  so  shockingly  done,  I  had  to  buy  other 
material,  and  quietly  have  it  made  up  by  good  seamstresses, 
without  telling  my  secret.  I  said,  if  it  did  come  back  !  I 
several  times  found  a  drunken  husband  had  resented  the 
intrusion  into  his  domestic  circle,  and  had  thrown  the 
goods  in  the  fire. 

I  was  quite  desperate.  I  saw  there  was  a  need,  but  how 
to  meet  it.  An  English  woman  came  to  me  one  day  ask- 
ing employment  and  a  home.  I  found  out  that  she  was  a 
good  seamstress,  and  I  employed  her.  I  gave  her  a  room  in 
the  Sunday-school  building  and  fed  her  from  my  table.  I 
told  her  I  did  not  know  exactly  what  I  wanted  her  for, 
but  I  would  find  out. 

A  day  or  two  after,  I  met  a  pretty  little  poor  girl  in  the 
street,  and  asked  her  if  she  could  sew.  She  could  n't,  but 
wished  she  knew  how.  I  took  her  by  the  hand  and  led 
her  to  the  English  woman,  and  said  to  her,  "  This  is  what 
I  want  you  to  do  ;  take  this  child,  and  teach  her  every- 
thing you  know  about  a  needle."  The  child  stayed  two 
or  three  hours,  and  went  home  happy.  The  next  day  she 
brought  a  little  friend.  In  two  weeks  the  teacher  had  a 
larger  class  than  she  could  manage. 


io8  Led  On  I 

I  explained  matters  to  my  people.  Volunteers  came 
forward,  and  so  I  established  the  first  industrial  school  for 
girls  in  this  State,  and  as  far  as  I  know  in  the  South. 
Very  soon,  some  of  the  mothers  came  with  the  children, 
and  so  my  object  was  reached,  namely,  that  of  educating 
these  people  for  themselves.  We  soon  had  so  many  opera- 
tives, and  they  made  so  much  progress,  that  we  found  it 
difiicult  to  get  a  sufficiency  of  private  work  to  keep  them 
going.  So  I  went  to  Hayne  Street,  and  made  a  contract 
for  hundreds  of  pieces  of  plain  underwear.  Gradually  we 
grew  more  ambitious,  and  took  contracts  for  common 
pantaloons  and  coats.  Then  we  introduced  a  sewing-ma- 
chine, and  had  a  woman  taught  ;  this  example  was  con- 
tagious, and  we  at  last  acquired  thirt3^-two  sewing- 
machines.  We  had  men  employed  to  do  the  pressing  and 
cutting.  The  institution  became  entirely  self-supporting  ; 
here  my  business  training  was  ver}^  valuable,  for  we  kept 
a  regular  set  of  books.  Ten  cents  was  stopped  from  the 
cost  of  making  each  garment,  and  every  cent  of  the  rest 
given  to  the  workers.  This  ten  cents  bought  the  machines, 
paid  the  men,  and  met  the  expense  of  fuel  and  light. 
Each  day  before  work  a  few  collects,  and  a  hymn,  and  the 
Creed  were  used  to  make  up  a  ser^dce  of  song  and  praise. 
I  proposed  to  the  workers  that  they  would  save  time,  if 
their  dinners  were  provided  in  the  factory  which  could  be 
done  for  ten  cents  each.  They  all  agreed,  so  we  had  a 
kitchen  opened  and  a  table  spread  for  them.  The  women 
numbered  fifty-nine.  The  children's  industrial  school 
went  on,  the  ladies  of  the  congregation  coming  to  my  aid 
in  sufficient  numbers  to  carry  on  the  cooking  arrange- 
ments, and  the  work  of  the  school.*    One  day  in  the 

*  Christmas,  1861,  these  operatives  presented  me  with  a  silver 
goblet  and  waiter,  inscribed,  "  From  Grateful  Hearts  to  the  Founder 
of  the  First  Industrial  School  in  the  City."  I  have  it  now  ;  a  grate- 
ful servant  took  them  with  the  rest  of  my  silver  when  we  were 


Hard  Work  and  Foreign  Travel.         109 

spring  of  1859,  Mr.  Wm.  Matheson,  who  was  at  the  head 
of  the  largest  ready-made  clothing  store  in  the  city,  came 
to  see  this  much-talked  about  establishment.  He  stood 
at  the  door  for  some  moments,  and  looked  at  the  busy 
scene,  then  said  : 

*'  Mr.  Porter,  are  you  a  tailor  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said,  ''  nor  the  son  of  a  tailor." 

**  Where,  then,  did  all  this  come  from,  how  have  you 

done  it  ?  " 

'*  Oh,"  I  said,   *'  like  Topsy,  it  just  grew,— grew  from 

one  little  girl." 

''  Will  you  turn  this  factory  over  to  me  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  it  has  grown  too  large  for  me,  it  takes  too  much 
of  my  time  ;  I  will  gladly  do  it  on  one  condition,  namely, 
that  you  pay  these  hands  just  what  I  do.  Do  you  see  that 
group  of  three  women  in  that  corner  ?  One  at  the  corner, 
one  at  the  sewing-machine,  and  two  fixing  work  ?  Do 
you  see  how  well  they  look,  how  well  they  are  dressed, 
and  how  contented  ?  When  I  found  them  they  were 
starving,  they  had  sold  everything  but  one  bed,  and  were 
about  to  be  turned  into  the  street  for  house-rent.  Now 
their  wardrobe  is  supplied,  their  house  is  comfortably  fur- 
nished, and  I  hkve  six  months'  rent  deposited  for  them  in 
the  savings-bank.  If  you  take  this  institution  on  my 
terms,  I  will  give  you  the  house-room  free." 

"  But  I  can't,"  he  said,  "  I  have  to  make  a  living." 

"  Yes,"   I  said,   "  and  to  make  graves  for  these  poor 
people  while  you  are  making  your  living  out  of  them.     I 

raided  on  in  Anderson,  S.  C,  in  1865,  by  soldiers  from  North 
Carolina,  and  hid  the  silver  in  the  woods,  and  when  they  demanded 
it  of  me,  I  could  truthfully  say  I  did  not  know  where  my  silver 
was,  for  the  servant,  without  saying  a  word,  when  she  heard  the 
Federal  soldiers  were  coming,  gathered  everything  up  and  disap- 
peared and  did  not  return  until  they  had  gone.  This  little  token 
is  a  pleasant  memory  of  the  past. 


1 1  o  Led  On  ! 


will  be  frank  with  you.  I  did  not  expect  to  meet  such 
success  in  this  industry,  but  I  soon  saw  the  possibilities 
in  it,  and  I  hoped  to  force  you  and  others  to  give  more 
than  starvation  wages,  for  I  shall  carry  this  on  until  I 
have  hundreds  in  it.  My  congregation  have  given  what 
I  asked  to  start  it,  dining-room  and  all  ;  now  it  carries 
itself,  with  a  little  surplus,  and  you  see  how  the  operatives 
are  faring." 

•  '*  Well,"  he  said,  '*  it  is  a  revelation,  and  though  you 
may  hurt  me,  I  say  God  bless  you,  and  your  effort  for  the 
poor. ' ' 

I  must  finish  here  the  history  of  this  school.  When  the 
war  broke  out,  Colonel  Hampton  sent  to  me  for  uniforms 
for  the  Hampton  Legion,  and  to  illustrate  the  preparation 
the  South  had  to  make  for  that  gigantic  war,  I  may  men- 
tion that  I  went  to  every  factory  in  Virginia  and  North 
Carolina  in  vain  search  for  a  sufiicent  quantity  of  cloth  of 
the  same  color  to  uniform  one  thousand  men.  I  came  to 
Charleston,  and  from  Messrs.  Wm.  Ravenel  &  Co.  pur- 
chased ten  different  kinds  of  cloth  for  the  ten  companies, 
and  took  them  to  my  industrial  school,  and  there  the  uni- 
forms were  cut  and  made.  I  had  fifty-nine  women  in  the 
building,  and  three  hundred  and  fifty  outside  working  at 
their  superintendence  ;  for  our  troops,  just  after  the  first 
battle  of  Manassas  or  Bull  Run,  were  in  a  deplorable  con- 
dition. Major  Hatch,  Quartermaster  of  the  State  of 
South  Carolina,  heard  of  this,  and  in  the  name  of  the 
State  took  possession  of  our  school  which  was  the  only 
orsranized  establishment  of  the  kind  in  the  State  or  in  the 
South.  After  I  had  finished  the  uniforms  of  the  Hampton 
Legion,  I  took  them  to  Virginia,  and  left  Major  Hatch  in 
charge,  and  most  of  the  work  done  for  the  South  Carolina 
troops  was  done  there.  Later  on,  when  the  shells  made 
the  lower  portion  of  the  city  uninhabitable,  the  Confeder- 
ate Government  took  possession  of  the  lower  story,  and 


Hard  Work  and  Foreign  Travel,         1 1 1 

the  Confederate  Post  Office  was  kept  there  until  Charles- 
ton fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Federal  Government.  When 
I  returned  to  Charleston  in  1865,  I  went  with  my  sexton 
to  look  at  the  wreck.  The  colored  sexton  told  me  the 
Freedmen's  Bureau  people  had  carted  off  all  the  sewing 
machines,  and  nothing  was  left.  Thus  another  great  and 
beneficent  work  perished,  the  result  of  that  dreadful  war. 
I  have  never  been  able  since  to  revive  the  work,  but 
many  persons  who  had  come  in  there  to  help,  had  learned 
the  work,  and  after  the  war  supported  themselves  in  con- 
sequence. 

I  must  enliven  this  sad  page  with  one  laughable  thing. 
When  we  were  at  the  height  of  our  uniform  work,  a  dear 
young  girl,  bright  and  pretty  as  a  rosebud,  came  to  me  in 
great  distress,  holding  up  an  unfinished  pair  of  pants,  say- 
ing, "  Do,  Mr.  Porter,  tell  me  what  is  the  matter  ?  I  can't 
get  these  things  to  fit." 

I  took  them  and  said,  ' '  Well,  my  dear,  if  you  will  rip 
them  apart,  and  put  both  of  the  fronts  together  and  the 
backs  together,  you  may  get  it  right.  You  have  a  front 
part  and  a  back  part  now  stitched  together,  and  I  don't 
think  this  is  natural." 

It  brought  a  merry  laugh,  but  she  had  learned  some- 
thing. 


CHAPTER   XII 

SKCKSSION  THUNDKR-CIvOUDS 

Good  works  of  Mr.  Wag^ier  and  Mr.  Treiihohn — /  experi- 
ence the  power  of  faithful  prayer — Secession  in  the  air — / 
wit?iess  the  signing  of  the  ordijiance  of  secession,  but  do  not 
sign  it — The  ratificatio?t  7nass-tneeting  —  The  firing  of 
Fort  Moiiltrie — Capture  by  secessionists  of  United  States 
arsenal  in  Cha7'leston. 


I  HAVE  mentioned  among  my  helpers  Mr.  Theodore  D. 
Wagner,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  A.  Trenholm. 
Mr.  Wagner  and  his  family  had  come  to  me  from  St. 
Michael's  in  1856,  Mr.  Trenholm  and  his  family  in 
1857,  from  St.  Peter's  Church.  A  more  generous,  large- 
hearted  man  than  Mr.  Wagner  scarcely  ever  lived.  Few 
are  alive  now  who  knew  of  his  benevolence,  but  in  his  day 
no  case  of  suffering  that  he  ever  heard  of  went  unrelieved. 
I  only  had  to  tell  him  what  was  needed  to  be  done,  and 
he  did  it,  for  he  loved  to  do  it.  Hundreds  were  the  re- 
cipients of  his  kindness  ;  doubtless  he  was  often  imposed 
on,  but  that  did  not  chill  him.  Absolutely  unselfish,  he 
seemed  to  disdain  hoarding,  and  spent  as  freely  as  he  made. 
He  belonged  to  the  great  mercantile  firm  of  John  Fraser 
&  Co.,  of  which  Mr.  Geo.  A.  Trenholm  was  the  head. 

In  business  Mr.  Trenholm  was  a  king.     He  was  the 
absolute  master  of  local  banking,  and  the  cotton  trade. 


112 


Secession  T/izmde?^- Clouds.  1 1  ■; 


J 


He  had  his  ships,  and  his  word  in  Broad  Street  and  on 
East  Bay  was  law  ;  but  it  is  of  the  man  I  would  write. 
He  was  tall  and  handsome,  and  graceful  in  his  manners. 
I  said,  when  speaking  of  Mr.  J.  W.  Hutson,  that  he  had 
the  sweetest  smile  of  any  man  I  ever  saw,  save  one  ;  that 
one  was  Mr.  Trenholm.  His  alms  were  not  so  well  known 
as  Mr.  Wagner's,  but  I,  his  pastor,  saw  what  he  would 
not  let  the  world  see,  and  many  families  that  the  com- 
munity knew  not  of,  were  made  comfortable,  and  lived  in 
ease  by  his  generosity.  He  had  the  clearest  mind  I  ever 
met  with  ;  there  was  scarcely  a  subject  you  could  propose 
that  he  would  not  throw  light  upon.  He  was  the  least 
resentful  man  I  ever  knew  ;  of  those  who  did  him  much 
harm,  he  never  said  a  harsh  word  ;  of  his  family  circle  he 
was  the  very  light.  Great  as  he  was  in  business,  he 
seemed  to  leave  all  at  the  gate  when  he  came  home,  and 
was  as  tender  to  his  dear  wife  (who  was  a  perfect  Christian 
woman)  as  if  he  were  a  young  lover,  and  to  his  children, 
climbing  on  his  shoulders,  and  hanging  round  his  neck, 
he  was  devoted.  It  was  a  pleasant  home  to  which  to 
go.  He  succeeded  Mr.  C.  C.  Memminger  as  Secretary 
of  the  Treasury  of  the  Confederate  States.  He,  with 
Mr.  Wagner,  inaugurated  the  blockade-running.  They 
brought  immense  stores,  and  guns,  and  ammunition  into 
the  Confederacy.  It  is  a  sad  commentary  on  life  that  the 
generation  of  to-day,  even  in  this  community,  have  little 
knowledge  of  the  greatest  man  who  ever  lived  in  it. 

Knowing  the  difficulties  of  collecting  money  to  build 
churches,  Mr.  John  Bryan  and  I  had  organized  a  Church 
Building  Association  in  1857.  The  officers  were  the 
Bishop,  as  President  ex  officio,  Dr.  C.  Hanckel,  Vice- 
President,  Rev.  A.  T.  Porter,  Secretary,  and  John  Bryan, 
Treasurer  ;  the  Rev.  Messrs.  P.  Trapier,  C.  Wallace,  A. 
W.  Marshall,  D.D.,  G.  H.  Elliott,  C.  C.  Pinckney,  Messrs. 
J.  K.  Saas,  I.  F.  Blacklock,  C.  Edmonston,  K.  I^.  Kerri- 


114  Led  On! 


son,  C.  B.  Heyward,  F.  Elford,  G.  A.  Trenholm,  Trustees. 
We  assisted  twelve  churches  to  the  amount  of  $4475. 
The  society  lived  six  years,  and  the  civil  war  crushed  the 
life  out  of  this  institution  also.  But  for  the  war  it  would 
now  be  a  power  in  the  church. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  summer  of  i860,  my  wife  took 
the  two  children  to  spend  the  summer  with  our  two 
friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Joshua  Ward,  at  their  beautiful 
home  on  the  French  Broad,  in  Transylvania  County, 
North  Carolina.  I  remained  at  my  work  in  the  city.  In 
September  I  was  suddenly  summoned  to  go  to  the  moun- 
tains, as  our  oldest  boy  was  desperately  ill  with  typhoid 
fever.  When  I  arrived,  the  doctor  gave  me  very  little 
hope,  but  said  if  he  could  induce  perspiration  he  would 
see  some  chances  for  the  child's  life.  I  have  always  been 
a  firm  believer  in  the  power  of  faithful  prayer  ;  God  may 
not  grant  what  we  ask  for,  but  He  never  forgets  one  true 
prayer,  and  the  faith  that  makes  it. 

I  accordingly  left  the  sick  room  and  went  up  the  side 
of  the  mountain  alone,  and  prayed,  that  if  it  were  possible, 
this  cup  might  pass  from  us.  The  child  was  then  nearly 
five  years  old,  and  had  grown  to  be  the  handsomest  child 
I  had  ever  seen,  perfect  in  figure,  and  spiritual  in  expres- 
sion, with  a  bright,  intelligent  mind  that  seemed  to  run 
only  on  spiritual  things.  I  recollected  on  that  mountain's 
side,  how,  when  he  was  three  years  old,  I  was  taking  him 
from  Charleston  to  Georgetown  in  a  steamer.  The  ocean 
was  like  a  mirror,  and  he  was  leaning  over  the  railing, 
looking  out  at  it. 

He  said,  *  *  Papa,  how  smooth  the  sea  is,  do  you  know 
what  makes  it  so  smooth  ?  " 

Seeing  him  lost  in  thought,  I  asked  him  what  made  it 
so  smooth. 

' '  Why,  papa,  don't  you  know  ?  God  has  stooped  down 
and  rubbed  His  hand  over  it." 


Secession  Thunder- Clouds.  115 

"  Out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings  hast  Thou 
perfected  praise."  Those  words  have  often  given  me 
courage  in  a  life  that  has  been  full  of  the  rough,  and  the 
smooth.  Such  was  the  child's  mind  even  to  the  end. 
After  my  earnest  wrestling  in  prayer,  I  returned,  and  went 
and  looked  at  him.  There  was  no  change,  and  I  went 
out  seven  times,  and  said  the  same  words,  with  the  addi- 
tion, "  Nevertheless,  Thy  will  be  done." 

When  I  returned  to  the  room  the  seventh  time,  I 
noticed  on  the  boy's  lips  a  chain  of  perspiration  drops. 

Then  I  knelt  at  his  bedside  and  thanked  God,  for  I 
knew  that  the  crisis  was  past.  He  began  to  mend,  and  in 
a  couple  of  weeks  was  up  and  about  again.*  The  rest  of 
the  summer  passed  pleasantly  ;  there  was  little  communi- 
cation with  the  outside  world  and  we  were  in  profound 
ignorance  of  what  was  going  on.  Early  in  October  we 
crossed  the  mountains  to  Greenville,  and  came  down  on 
the  railroad  to  Columbia.  When  we  reached  there  we 
found  the  State  of  South  Carolina  was  wild  with  excite- 
ment. The  presidential  election  was  coming  on,  and 
everyone  said  that  if  Mr.  Lincoln  was  elected  the  State 
would  secede.  Dear  old  Doctor  Shand,  with  whom  we 
stayed,  had  caught  the  infection,  and  seemed  ready  to 
buckle  on  his  sword.  I  remember  the  conversation  round 
the  fireside.  His  young  son,  then  a  boy,  since  a  distin- 
guished lawyer,  Mr.  Robert  W.  Shand,  and  I  took  the 
opposite  side,  and  said  secession  was  a  second  nullification 
madness.  My  father,  I  had  always  heard,  was  opposed 
to  the  idea,  and  was  a  Union  man,  though  he  died  before 
that  nullification  folly  came  to  a  head.     And  I  had  im- 

*  Dr.  Arthur  Flagg,  who  attended  him,  said  his  recovery  was  a 
miracle.  That  same  Dr.  Flagg,  with  his  family  and  servants,  were 
all  swept  into  the  sea  in  their  house  in  the  fearful  cyclone  and 
tidal  wave  of  1893,  which  swept  the  coast  of  South  Carolina.  All 
of  the  party  were  drowned  save  two — some  nineteen  persons. 


1 1 6  Led  On  ! 


bibed  his  views,  and,  as  I  said,  to  me  it  seems  madness.  I 
remember  Mr.  Shand's  son,  a  boy,  saying,  "  Father, 
secession  will  not  be  a  peaceable  measure  ;  it  will  mean 
war,  and  war  will  mean  the  emancipation  of  our  slaves. ' ' 

The  old  gentleman  could  not  stand  still  ;  he  said  it  was 
all  nonsense,  and  got  so  excited  that  we  became  amused, 
and  teased  the  dear  old  saint,  for  saint  he  was,  by  depict- 
ing the  horrors  that  would  come.*  We  left  at  once  for 
Charleston,  and  found  the  fever  of  excitement  was  raging. 
In  November  the  Legislature  met,  and  after  a  stormy  de- 
bate, called  a  convention  to  secede  from  the  Union,  Lin- 
coln having  been  elected.  A  laughable  story  of  Mr.  J.  L. 
Petigru  is  worthy  of  record.  He  was  walking  up  Main 
Street  in  Columbia,  and  was  met  by  some  countryman 
who  asked,  "  Mister,  can  you  tell  me  where  is  the  lunatic 
asylum  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  my  man,"  he  said,  "it  is  off  down  that  street, 
they  call  that  the  asylum,  but  it  is  a  mistake.  Yon- 
der," pointing  to  the  State  House,  where  the  Legisla- 
ture was  in  session,  "  is  the  asylum,  and  it  is  full  of 
lunatics. ' ' 

Mr.  Petigru  was  to  the  end  a  pronounced  Union  man, 
and  such  was  the  veneration  in  which  he  was  held,  that 
he  said  what  he  pleased,  and  he  said  many  sharp,  bitter 
things  in  those  five  years'  of  war,  but  no  one  took  offense, 
nor  molested  him.  Day  by  day  the  excitement  increased, 
and  when  the  Legislature  called  the  Convention  we  had 
all  become  crazed.     I  was  in  my  thirty-third  year,  and 

*  We  little  dreamed  what  we  said  in  fun  was  more  than  realized 
in  that  very  town  of  Columbia,  and  in  that  very  house,  for  it  was 
burned  down  by  Federal  troops  five  years  after.  And  Dr.  Shand 
was  struck  by  a  soldier,  and  a  trunk  that  he  and  a  servant  were  car- 
rying from  the  burning  house  was  violently  taken  from  him.  It 
contained  all  the  Church  Sacramental  silver,  and  has  never  been 
recovered. 


Secession  Thunder- Clouds.  117 


became  as  enthusiastic  as  the  rest.     I  look  back  now  and 
wonder  how  it  all  could  have  been  as  it  was.* 

The  Convention  assembled  at  St.  Andrew's  Hall, 
Broad  Street,  afterwards  burned  down.  The  room  was 
cleared,  but  my  wife's  brother,  Samuel  T.  Atkinson,  was 
a  member  of  it,  and  I  sat  quietly  by  him  and  was  not 
turned  out.  I  think  I  was  the  only  person  not  a  member 
who  was  present. 

Chancellor  B.  F.  Dunkin,  Mr.  Robt.  W.  Barnwell,  and 
others  made  conservative  speeches,  but  the  fiery  eloquence 
of  the  secessionists  prevailed,  and  the  vote  was  ordered 
by  the  roll  call.  The  ordinance  of  secession  was  read, 
and  a  stillness  that  could  be  felt  prevailed.  The  members 
were  called  alphabetically,  and  my  brother-in-law's  name 
was  first  called — "  Samuel  T.  Atkinson." 

In  a  subdued,  but  firm  voice,  he  said,  "  Yea." 

Yea  after  yea,  was  answered  until  every  name  was 
called,  and  the  vote  was  unanimous. 

Then  each  went  up  and  signed  the  paper,  and  the  deed 
was  done,  which  cost  millions  and  millions  of  money,  tens 
of  thousands  of  lives,  destruction  of  cities  and  villages, 
plantations  and  farms,  the  emancipation  of  five  millions 
of  African  slaves,  the  entire  upheaval  of  society,  the  im- 
poverishment of  a  nation  ;  and  let  loose  a  demoralization 
which  has  left  its  impress  on  the  whole  land,  North  and 
South.  It  was  a  deed  which  made  the  North  rich  and 
the  South  poor,  and  has  made  Southern  life  one  great 
struggle  from  that  day  to  this. 

*  Many  years  afterwards  I  was  in  Mr.  C.  C.  Memminger's  office, 
and  I  said  to  him  : 

"  Mr.  Memminger,  I  am  now  as  old  as  you  were  when  this  city 
and  State  went  wild ;  why  did  not  you  older  men  take  all  of  us 
young  enthusiasts  and  hold  us  down  ?  " 

"  Oh !  "  he  replied,  "it  was  a  whirlwind,  and  all  we  could  do 
was  to  try  to  guide  it." 


ii8  Led  On! 


Someone,  from  a  window  of  the  Convention  hall,  gave 
a  sign  to  the  dense  mass  of  men  who  packed  Broad  Street 
outside  that  the  ordinance  had  passed,  and  then  a  mighty- 
shout  arose.  It  rose  higher  and  higher  until  it  was  as  the 
roar  of  the  tempest.  It  spread  from  end  to  end  of  the  city, 
for  all  were  of  one  mind.  No  man  living  could  have  stood 
that  excitement.  If  there  were  any  like  Mr.  Petigru,  they 
hid  themselves;  for  he  alone  would  have  dared  to  be  silent 
that  day.  This  was  Thursday  the  20th  of  December,  i860. 
Bonfires  were  lit  that  night  in  every  street ;  processions 
were  formed  and  went  to  the  houses  of  diJBferent  public 
men,  and  forced  them  to  come  out  and  make  a  speech. 

A  crowd  came  to  my  house,  and  yelled,  and  called  out, 
but  I  would  not  go  out.  I  did  not  know  what  to  say, 
until  my  friend  Wagner  somehow  got  into  my  house,  and 
insisted  on  my  going  out  to  the  upper  piazza  and  saying 
something.  I  did  not  say  much,  but  it  was  in  somewhat 
of  a  discordant  strain.  I  urged  that  we  required  to  stop 
shouting,  and  do  something,  for  the  event  of  the  day 
meant  serious  business.  Mr.  Wagner  often  afterward 
talked  to  me  of  that  speech,  for  the  crowd  did  not  go 
away  pleased;  but  experience  showed  my  young  head 
was  more  level  than  the  head  of  some  of  my  seniors. 

On  Friday  morning,  Judge  A.  G.  Magrath,  the  United 
States  Circuit  Judge,  in  the  presence  of  the  bar,  rose  from 
his  seat,  and  in  a  most  dramatic  manner,  took  off  his 
gown,  and  laid  it  on  the  chair,  saying,  "  The  office  of 
United  States  Judge  is  vacant." 

The  act  started  the  enthusiasm  of  the  day  before  ;  every- 
body took  to  shouting.  As  the  wave  or  sound  died  down, 
the  news  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth  that  James  Conner, 
United  States  District  Attorney,  had  resigned.  Men 
hugged  each  other  in  the  streets,  and  every  one  ran  hither 
and  thither  to  hear  what  next.  Would  old  Mr.  Alfred 
Huger,  who  had  been  postmaster,  it  seemed,  forever,  re- 


Secession  Thunder-Clouds,  119 


sign  ?  No,  he  would  not  lose  his  head  as  the  rest  of  us 
had,  he  would  wait  and  see.  Nearly  everyone  who  held 
a  United  States  office  hastened  to  follow  the  example  of 
Mr.  Conner. 

A  ratification  mass-meeting  was  called  for  Friday  night, 
and  was  held  at  the  South  Carolina  Mechanical  Institute 
Hall,  next  south  of  the  Circular  Church.*  The  large 
building  was  packed,  and  the  throng  in  the  street  was 
immense.     It  was  all  one  way  in  Charleston. 

Judge  Magrath  was  the  first  speaker.  He  stood  on  the 
left  of  the  stage  facing  the  audience,  and  began  (I  give  his 
very  words)  : 

' '  Fellow  citizens  :  The  time  for  deliberation  has  passed. ' ' 
He  paused,  and  started  across  the  stage  to  the  right,  walk- 
ing in  slow  measured  steps.  Everyone  who  remembers 
Judge  Magrath' s  walk,  will  recall  him  as  he  passed  a  large 
handkerchief  through  his  hands,  from  one  diagonal  corner 
to  the  other.  He  said  not  a  word  more,  and  the  audience 
waited  until,  in  an  impassioned  voice  and  gesture,  he  added: 

"  The  time  for  action  has  come." 

At  that  moment  there  went  up  a  universal  yell,  presage 
of  what  has  gone  into  history  as  ' '  the  rebel  yell. ' '  It  died 
out,  and  rose,  and  died,  and  rose  for  several  minutes  be- 
fore the  Judge  could  proceed.  And  I,  fool  as  I  was,  yelled 
with  the  rest  of  them,  and  threw  up  my  hat,  and  no 
doubt  thought  we  could  whip  creation.  It  was  very 
dramatic  in  the  Judge,  a  fine  piece  of  acting,  but  alas,  the 
prologue  of  what  a  tragedy  ! 

Some  other  hand  must  portray  the  military  scenes  of 
that  week.  The  flame  of  enthusiasm  extended  from  the 
seaboard  to  the  mountains,  and  all  South  Carolina  was 
ablaze.  Matters  somewhat  settled  down  until  the  follow- 
ing Friday,  December  27th.  Christmas  had  come  in  be- 
tween, but  we  all  forgot  Christmas  and  its  joy.     Early 

*  Burnt  on  December  11,  1861. 


1 20  Led  On  / 

Friday  morning  a  dense  smoke  was  seen  issuing  from 
Fort  Moultrie  on  Sullivan's  Island,  and  the  impression  got 
abroad  that  it  had  accidentally  taken  fire.  Major  Macbeth 
at  once  chartered  a  steamer,  and  ordered,  contrary  to  cit}^ 
ordinance^  two  fire-engine  companies  (the  Etna  and  the 
Vigilant,  or  the  Phoenix  and  one  other  company,  I  forget 
which)  to  go  and  assist  Major  Anderson  in  extinguishing 
the  flames.  I  saw  the  engines  on  the  steamer.  While  she 
was  getting  up  steam,  a  client  of  Captain  Edward  Mc- 
Crady,  Jr. ,  came  from  the  island  in  a  small  boat,  and  gave 
the  information  that  the  guns  had  been  spiked,  that  the  in- 
terior of  the  fort  had  been  fired  and  rendered  useless,  and 
that  Major  Anderson  and  the  garrison  had  shut  themselves 
up  in  Fort  Sumter.     The  situation  began  to  be  realized. 

I  do  not  think  that  anyone  can  portray  the  scenes  of 
that  day.  There  was  no  more  shouting,  but  men  and 
women  were  hurrying  to  and  fro,  with  an  excitement 
words  cannot  express  at  all.  The  wildest  rumors  were 
started,  everyone  supposed  that  Fort  Sumter  was  full  of 
shells,  and  that  Major  Anderson  had  trained  his  guns  on 
the  city,  and  we  should  soon  be  bombarded. 

News  flew  through  the  State,  and  through  the  whole 
South,  that  fighting  was  going  on  in  the  streets  and  blood 
was  flowing  like  water,  and  company  after  company  from 
the  State,  and  from  Georgia,  volunteered  to  come  to  our 
aid.  Of  course,  there  was  not  truth  in  any  of  the  reports 
and  aid  was  declined,  but  the  United  States  arsenal  was 
occupied,  and  the  Washington  I^ight  Infantr3^  Captain 
Pinckney's  company,  and  Captain  McCrady's  (I  do  not 
remember  any  other)  were  ordered  to  capture  Castle 
Pinckney.  I  have  a  ludicrous  account  of  the  capture  of 
the  arsenal  written  by  one  of  the  ' '  picked  twenty  ' '  that 
is  too  good  not  to  be  put  in  permanent  shape  and  will  be 
found  in  the  appendix.* 

*  Appendix  A. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


WAR  IN  EARNEST 


My  chaplaincy  in  the  Washington  Light  hifantry—The  de- 
lusion of  secessio7iists  as  to  peace— Fort  Sumter  is  fired  on 
—  The  surrender  of  Major  Anderson — Some  difficulties  of 
recruiting — Some  young  Co7  federate  heroes — Bull  Rim. 

THE  Washington  Light  Infantry  was  organized  in  1808 
and  was  the  oldest  volunteer  company  in  the  State. 
I  had  been  elected  their  chaplain  in  1858,  succeeding  Mr. 
Oilman,  a  Unitarian  minister,  who  had  succeeded  the 
Roman  Catholic  Bishop  England,  and  he  succeeded  Rev. 
R.  Dewer  Simons.  I  am  therefore  the  fourth  chaplain, 
and  have  held  the  office  for  thirty-eight  years.  On  Satur- 
day, 28th,  I  received  a  note  from  Captain  Simonton,  after- 
wards Colonel,  and  now  United  States  District  Judge,  ask- 
ing me  to  come  to  Castle  Pinckney,  and  hold  service  for 
the  boys.  I  did  so  and  preached  a  sermon,  choosing  my 
text  from  Second  Timothy,  ii.,  3,  "  As  a  good  soldier  of 
Jesus  Christ."  Thus  I  had  the  honor  of  preaching  the 
first  sermon  to  the  troops  in  the  civil  war.  The  Church 
of  the  Holy  Communion  I  had,  of  course,  closed  on  the 
occasion. 

When  we  were  rowing  back  after  the  serv^ice,  Pinckney 
Lowndes  said,  ''  Look  here,  Chaplain,  you  have  scared  us 
out  of  our  wits  ;  you  tell  us  there  will  be  fighting,  and 

121 


1 2  2  Led  On  ! 

fighting  means  killing  and  wounding.  So  we  are  all 
ready  to  resign  right  away  and  go  home." 

Of  course  he  was  joking  as  to  the  latter  part,  but  the 
first  was  true.  I  did  not  believe  that  this  question  could 
be  settled  peaceably. 

The  Friday  night  after  Major  Anderson  had  gone  to 
Sumter,  I  went  down  to  walk  on  the  Battery,  for  I  was 
oppressed  and  depressed.  Events  had  followed  so  quickly 
one  on  the  other,  that  the  reality  of  the  situation  began 
at  last  to  appear.  On  the  Battery,  I  met  Colonel  James 
Chestnut,  ex-Member  of  Congress.  I  remarked  to  him, 
"These  are  troublous  times.  Colonel  ;  we  are  at  the  begin- 
ning of  a  terrible  war. ' ' 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  said,  *'  there  will  be  no  war,  it  will  be 
all  arranged.     I  will  drink  all  the  blood  shed  in  the  war. ' ' 

So  little  did  some  of  our  leaders  realize  the  awful  import 
of  what  we  were  doing.* 

Some  time  later  in  the  winter  of  1861,  the  Washington 
Light  Infantry  with  the  Rifle  Regiment  were  sent  to  Sul- 
livan's Island  to  guard  the  north  end,  for  the  fleet  was  at 
anchor  outside  the  bar.  Why  they  did  not  land  a  force 
and  take  SulHvan's  Island,  and  from  there  march  to 
Mt.  Pleasant,  and  Charleston  in  the  rear,  I  have  never 
heard  explained.  A  strong  force  could  have  captured  the 
island  at  any  time  for  months  after  Fort  Sumter  fell.  I 
went  down  with  the  company,  coming  off  and  on  to  the 

*  Twenty-four  years  afterward,  Sunday  falling  on  February  22d, 
the  anniversary  of  the  Washington  Light  Infantry,  I,  as  usual, 
preached  to  them  at  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion,  and  I 
used  the  same  manuscript,  writing  a  short  introduction,  without 
altering  one  sentence  in  the  sermon.  I  could  have  preached  it  at 
the  foot  of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument  in  i860,  for  it  was  as  ap- 
plicable there  as  here.  I  note  this  to  show  the  spirit  that  animated 
some  of  us  in  those  trying  days.  There  were  only  six  or  eight  of 
the  old  command  left  and  present ;  many  of  my  last  hearers  had 
not  been  bom  when  the  sermon  was  first  preached. 


War  in  Earnest.  123 


city  ;  holding  service  in  the  morning  at  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Communion,  and  at  night  at  the  camp. 

One  evening  the  ofl&cers  were  sitting  round  the  table 
playing  whist,  when  a  sergeant,  who  was  in  command  of 
the  pickets,  came  rushing  in  as  pale  as  a  ghost.  ' '  Cap- 
tain !  Captain  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  the  boat  is  full  of 
creeks. ' ' 

He  was  so  excited  (or  scared)  that  he  had  put  creeks  in 
the  boat,  instead  of  boats  in  the  creek.  The  Company 
was  turned  out  and  we  all  went  to  do  or  to  die.  But  as  it 
was  a  false  alarm,  we  neither  did  nor  died,  but  came  back 
to  quarters  and  went  to  bed.  Some  old  bills  of  Klinck  & 
Wickenberg,  who  were  the  grocers  of  most  of  us,  show 
how  sadly  far  off  we  were  from  the  real  state  of  the  case. 
Champagne,  madeira,  and  sherry,  pate  de  foie  gras,  and 
French  green  peas,  sardines  and  Spanish  olives,  Spanish 
cigars,  with  other  luxuries,  formed  then  the  staple  of  our 
stores  of  soldiers'  fare.  The  time  came  when  a  sweet  po- 
tato would  have  been  an  acceptable  luxury,  if  we  could 
have  had  enough  of  them. 

The  fateful  day  of  April  11,  1 86 1 ,  came.  At  four  o'  clock 
in  the  morning,  I  heard  the  boom  of  a  cannon.  I  hap- 
pened to  be  awake,  and  ran  in  and  woke  up  Captain 
Simonton,  saying,  ' '  The  first  gun  has  been  fired  ;  Fort 
Sumter  has  been  attacked." 

We  were  all  soon  upon  the  beach. 

Shot  after  shot  was  following  from  Fort  Moultrie  and 
battery  Gregg  on  Morris  Island.  But  Sumter  looked 
grim  and  was  silent.  Not  until  full  daylight  did  Major 
Anderson  open  fire,  but  when  he  did,  he  gave  it  all  round. 
We  could  see  the  shot  strike  the  beach  and  ricochet  along 
the  sand.  Many  of  us  ran  after  them;  some  of  us  went 
into  the  tower  of  the  Moultrie  House.  I  suppose  the 
crowd  of  us  was  seen,  and  our  position  being  the  most 
elevated  point  on  the  Island,  must  have  been  taken  for  a 


1 24  Led  On  I 


post  of  observation,  for  soon  shot  after  shot  struck  the 
building.  At  last  one  shot  crashed  into  the  tower  in  the 
story  below  us.  It  was  getting  too  much  of  a  good  thing, 
and  we  scrambled  out  of  that  place  without  "  looking 
upon  the  order  of  our  going. ' ' 

On  the  second  day,  Moultrie  set  fire  to  Sumter,  and 
every  gun  w^e  had  at  Fort  Johnson,  Battery  Gregg,  and 
the  other  batteries  on  Sullivan's  Island  opened  simultane- 
ously on  the  devoted  Sumter.  It  was  enveloped  in  smoke 
and  bombarded  by  fifty  guns,  and  out  of  the  smoke  came 
a  flash.     Anderson  had  answered  back. 

I  witnessed  then  a  scene  that  I  doubt  was  ever  equalled. 
The  gallantry  of  the  defense  struck  the  chivalry  of  the  at- 
tackers, and  without  a  command  every  soldier  mounted 
the  parapet  of  every  battery  of  the  Confederates  and  gave 
three  cheers  for  Major  Anderson.  Soon  after  the  white 
flag  w^ent  up,  firing  ceased,  and  Major  Anderson  had  sur- 
rendered. 

The  most  remarkable  thing  about  that  fight  was,  that 
not  a  man  received  a  scratch  on  either  side,  and  no  blood 
was  shed  until  the  next  day,  when  Major  Anderson  was 
permitted  by  General  Beauregard  to  salute  the  United 
States  flag  before  it  was  hauled  down.  On  that  occasion, 
a  gun  exploded  and  killed  two  or  three  Federal  soldiers. 
So  ended  the  first  chapter  of  that  story  written  in  blood, 
in  sorrow,  and  ruin. 

Soon  after  the  fall  of  Sumter,  the  Washington  Light 
Infantry  was  ordered  back  to  Charleston,  and  I  continued 
at  the  church.  Colonel  Gregg's  regiment  was  sent  to  Vir- 
ginia, and  a  call  was  made  for  the  companies  and  regi- 
ments to  volunteer.  A  meeting  of  the  Washington  Light 
Infantry  was  called,  and  after  much  debate,  it  was  resolved 
that  the  time  had  not  come  to  leave  the  State. 

This  was  a  great  mortification  to  not  a  few  of  us. 

The  next  day   I   was  walking  through  Washington 


War  in  Earnest,  125 


Square,  when  I  heard  my  name  called.  Looking  around 
I  saw  J.  M.  Logan  following  me.  He  was  a  clean-faced, 
handsome  boy  with  a  sweet,  gentle  expression,  almost  like 
that  of  a  girl. 

' '  What  do  you  think  of  the  action  last  night  of  the 
Washington  Light  Infantry  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  distressed,"  I  replied,  "such  action  by  the 
oldest  organization  will  have  an  injurious  effect." 

"  No  man  can  now  afford  to  look  back,"  Logan  said, 
' '  and  I  am  glad  of  it.  Will  you  help  some  of  us  to  get 
up  a  company  of  volunteers  ?  " 

' '  Who  are  the  '  some  of  you  '  ?  " 

"  Theodore  Klinck,  Wm.  A.  Dotterer,  and  myself  wish 
to  get  up  a  company,  but  we  need  an  older  man  to  lead." 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  "ask  Klinck  and  Dotterer  to 
come  to  my  house  to-night,  and  bring  the  roll  of  the 
company." 

They  came.  We  divided  the  roll  into  four  lists;  each 
took  the  men  over  whom  he  had  the  most  influence,  and 
agreed  to  see  them  the  next  day,  and  to  report  at  my 
house  the  next  night.  The  next  night  we  had  a  roll  of 
about  thirty.  We  then  proceeded  to  advertise  a  call  of 
all  the  Washington  Light  Infantry  who  had  agreed  to 
form  a  company  to  go  to  Virginia,  to  meet  in  my  Indus- 
trial School  rooms  the  following  night.  This  was  the  first 
public  notice  of  our  movement,  when  the  thirty  came,  and 
a  large  number  of  others,  so  that  we  enrolled  about  sixty. 
These  elected  W.  H.  Peroneau,  Captain  ;  Klinck,  ist 
Lieutenant  ;  Dotterer,  2d  Lieutenant,  and  T.  M.  Logan, 
3d  Lieutenant. 

We  met  next  night  in  the  same  place,  to  hear  who  had 
accepted.  We  learned  that  Peroneau  had  declined,  but  a 
number  of  names  was  added  to  the  roll.  E.  L.  Parker  was 
then  elected  Captain,  but  he  declined.  Mr.  Benj.  John- 
son was  then  elected.     As  he  was  known  to  but  few  of 


126  Led  On  ! 


the  company,  and  lived  some  sixteen  miles  from  Mt. 
Pleasant,  in  Christ  Church  parish,  I  was  asked  to  go  to 
him  and  offer  him  the  command.  Next  day,  accordingly, 
I  went  over  to  Mt.  Pleasant,  hired  a  buggy  and  horse,  and 
drove  to  his  plantation.  I  arrived  there  towards  the  dusk 
of  the  evening,  and  was  warmly  and  hospitably  received. 
He  had  no  idea  of  my  mission.  It  was  a  happy  Christian 
home  I  found  at  the  plantation.  I  have  often  recalled  my 
feeling  of  pain  when  I  arrived  as  a  harbinger  of  evil  to 
them. 

We  passed  as  happy  an  evening  as  was  possible  to  me, 
with  the  knowledge  of  my  object  in  my  mind.  At  last  the 
servants  all  came  into  family  prayers,  and  after  the  family 
had  retired,  I  informed  my  host  of  my  mission,  telling 
him  that  he  had  been  elected  Captain  of  the  Washington 
Light  Infantry  Volunteers  for  Virginia,  and  asked  him  to 
accept  it. 

He  was  much  startled  and  said,  "  It  has  come  sooner 
than  I  expected,  but  I  cannot  answer  until  the  morning." 

Next  morning  after  prayers,  and  breakfast,  we  strolled 
out.  I  had  noticed,  as  we  left  the  house,  deep  traces  of 
the  night's  anxiety  on  the  face  of  Johnson's  lovely  wife, 
but  I  saw  in  her  eye  that  she  would  not  stand  between  her 
husband  and  his  duty  to  his  country.  So  when  Mr.  John- 
son accepted  the  election  I  was  not  surprised. 

I  hastened  back  to  Charleston.  Logan  was  waiting  on 
the  market  wharf,  and  when  I  gave  him  the  signal  agreed 
on,  he  did  not  wait  to  meet  me,  but  rushed  off  to  the 
bulletin  board,  and  put  up  a  notice  of  the  acceptance 
of  the  commission  by  Mr.  Johnson.  He  then  called  a 
meeting  at  the  Military  Hall  in  Wentworth  Street.  'I 
met  the  volunteers  and  related  to  them  all  about  my 
visit,  and  announced  Mr.  Johnson's  acceptance,  adding 
that  he  would  be  in  Charleston  the  next  evening  to  take 
command. 


War  in  Earnest.  1 2  7 


The  evening  came,  the  hall  was  crowded.  Mr.  Johnson 
was  in  the  building,  the  committee,  Klinck,  Dotterer,  and 
Logan,  were  with  him.  The  meeting,  after  some  delay,  was 
called  to  order  with  myself  as  chairman.  The  newly 
elected  Captain  then  rose  to  his  feet  and  said,  * '  Gentle- 
men, I  hold  myself  bound  to  you,  by  the  promise  I  made- 
to  Doctor  Porter,  but  here  is  a  telegram  from  Colonel 
Wade  Hampton,  offering  me  the  place  of  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  in  the  Legion  he  is  raising  to  go  to  Virginia. 
What  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

We  immediately  released  him  from  his  engagement  to 
us  and  begged  him  to  accept  Colonel  Hampton's  offer,  and 
he  left  the  building.  Gallant  man,  he  w^as  killed  at  the 
first  battle  of  Manassas,  as  Lieutenant- Colonel  of  the 
Hampton  Legion. 

The  task  now  before  us  was  greater  than  ever.  We 
had  to  meet  the  men  and  tell  them  of  our  disappointment. 
Three  men  had  been  elected  Captain,  and  all  had  declined. 
I  resumed  the  chair  and  Logan  made  the  announcement. 
It  fell  upon  the  men  like  snow  upon  flowers.  Murmuring 
and  discontent  appeared.  Klinck  and  Dotterer  spoke,  but 
a  motion  was  offered  and  seconded  to  disband.  I  then 
left  the  chair,  and  taking  the  floor,  made  a  speech. 

I  gave  the  meeting  a  detailed  account  of  every  move- 
ment in  forming  a  company  from  the  beginning,  and  gave 
our  pledge,  that  if  mover  and  seconder  of  the  motion  to 
disband  would  withhold  that  resolution,  and  give  us  one 
more  day,  we  would  find  the  right  man  by  the  next  night, 
or  would  oppose  them  no  longer,  but  agree  to  disband. 

To  this  they  assented,  and  Logan  and  I  went  off  in  hope, 
although  absolutely  nonplussed.  We  could  not  think  of 
a  man. 

Next  day  about  eleven  o'clock  we  met  at  the  corner  of 
Church  and  Broad  Streets,  where  the  Charleston  Library 
now  is,  and  neither  of  us  had  found  the  man.     While  we 


128  Led  On! 


were  talking,  James  Conner  came  out  of  Paul  and  Brown's 
grocery  store,  and  walked  up  Broad  Street,  towards  St. 
Michael's  Church.  Instinctivelj^  I  slapped  Logan  on  his 
back  saying,  ' '  What  fools  we  are  !  Why,  there  is  the  very 
man  whom  of  all  men  in  this  community  we  want.  He  is 
far  ahead  of  all  the  others  we  thought  of. ' ' 

"  Go  after  him  !  "  said  Logan. 

I  crossed  over,  and  before  we  reached  St.  Michael's  I 
had  offered  him  the  unanimous  vote  of  the  company  as 
Captain.  We  stopped  under  St.  Michael's  porch,  he  hesi- 
tated, said  he  must  take  time  to  think. 

' '  No  time,  Mr.  Conner, ' '  I  said  ;  ' '  Now  !  we  must  have 
an  answer  now  !  we  must  go  to  that  meeting  with  our 
man,  or  they  will  disband  to-night." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  on  your  assurance  that  the  election 
is  unanimous,  I  will  accept." 

I  ran  back  to  Logan,  and  if  there  were  two  happy  men 
in  the  city,  we  were  those  men. 

We  put  up  a  notice  of  the  meeting  for  that  night,  urging 
every  man  to  be  present,  as  the  business  was  vital.  We 
kept  the  secret  from  all  but  Klinck  and  Dotterer,  and 
when  we  met,  the  hall  was  crowded.  We  four  were  jubi- 
lant.    Logan  nominated  James  Conner. 

*  *  Will  he  accept  ?  ' '  came  from  all  quarters. 

* '  He  will,  if  the  election  is  unanimous. ' ' 

I  put  the  vote  viva  voce,  and  the  yea  was  a  yell,  for  he 
was  a  distinguished  law3^er,  and  immensely  popular. 
How  we  had  never  thought  of  him  before  was  a  wonder 
to  us.  When  I  put  the  negative — *  *  There  are  none  here, ' ' 
was  the  answer  ;  "  we  are  all  aye. ' ' 

Conner  was  waiting  in  the  building,  and  Klinck,  Dot- 
terer, and  Logan  at  once  waited  on  him  and  escorted  him 
in,  and  he  was  greeted  with  a  tremendous  cheer.  As  soon 
as  I  could  be  heard,  I  said,  "  Men,  here  is  the  Captain  we 
pledged  to  you  last  night."     Turning  to  Captain  Conner, 


War  in  Earnest,  129 


I  proceeded,  "  I  resign  the  chair  to  you,  sir,  and  turn 
over  the  command."  * 

The  company  offered  themselves  to  Colonel  Hampton, 
and  was  made  Company  A  of  his  Legion.  How  they  de- 
meaned themselves,  is  recorded  on  a  monument  erected 
in  Washington  Square,  wdthin  fifty  feet  of  the  spot  on 
which  lyOgan  and  I  held  our  first  conversation.  The  long 
roll  of  killed  shows  how  they  fought.  I  delivered  the 
oration  when  the  monument  was  finished. 

The  Hampton  Legion  went  to  Virginia,  and  Captain 
Conner  had  promised  me  whenever  a  battle  was  imminent 
to  telegraph  me,  "  Come  at  once,"  and  I  would  under- 
stand. I  soon  after  received  the  telegram  from  him,  and 
left  as  soon  as  I  could,  but  reached  Manassas  Junction 
four  days  after  the  first  battle  of  Manassas. 

*  James  Conner  rose  to  be  General;  he  lost  a  leg  in  Virginia. 
After  the  war  he  was  foremost  in  council,  and  his  influence  and 
cool  bravery  saved  this  city  from  awful  carnage  at  the  time  of  the 
riot  in  1876  ;  but  for  him  many  lives  would  have  been  lost,  and 
thousands  of  negroes  would  have  been  massacred,  and  the  conse- 
quences no  one  can  foresee.  Klinck  and  Dotterer  were  both 
killed.     lyOgan  won  his  spurs,  and  was  the  youngest  General  in  the 

Confederate  service  when  the  war  ended. 
9 


CHAPTER  XIV 


MY  WAR   EXPKRIKNCKS 

Tlie  plagtie  of  measles  in  the  Confederate  camp — I  go  to  the 
front  —  The  work  of  an  ariny  chaplain  —  A  grateful 
"  Yank'' — Red  tape  and  ragged  uniforms — "  Co7ifederate 
misma7iagement' ' — The  Christian  Genei'al — Search  for  a 
dead  soldier — Pipes  and  Piety. 

THE  people  of  the  South  blamed  Johnson  and  Beaure- 
gard for  not  pressing  on  to  Washington,  but  one 
week  after  that  battle  our  demoralized  army  was  one  great 
measles  camp.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say,  you  could 
perceive  the  measles  in  the  air.  Ten  thousand  troops 
from  Washington  could  have  wiped  us  out. 

I  went  at  once  about  my  work  looking  up  the  wounded 
and  sick  and  had  my  hands  full.  I  had  two  canteens, 
one  of  whiskey,  and  one  of  water,  which  I  filled,  and 
often  a  Federal  prisoner  drank  one,  or  the  other,  and  then 
a  Confederate,  or  vice  versa.  I  remember  going  into  a 
shanty  where  a  number  of  men  were  wounded.  I  went 
up  to  a  Confederate  soldier,  and  he  said,  *'  Chaplain,  go 
first  to  that  man  over  there  ;  he  is  worse  off  than  I  am." 

I  went,  and  found  a  soldier  wounded  in  the  knee,  and 
suffering  very  much.  I  got  a  pitcher  of  water  and  poured 
it  over  his  leg,  until  I  had  deadened  the  pain.  Then  I 
asked  his  name  and  regiment,  and  where  he  came  from. 

130 


My  War  Experiences,  131 

He  was  from  Rochester,  N.  Y.  Assuring  him  my  ques- 
tion did  not  spring  from  idle  curiosit}^,  I  offered,  as  I  was 
close  to  headquarters,  to  write  to  his  mother  and  sisters, 
and  tell  them  he  was  not  seriously  Vv^ounded,  and  would 
be  taken  care  of;  my  letter  would  go,  I  added,  by  the 
first  flag  of  truce.  He  became  very  much  affected,  and 
the  big  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

*  *  Mister,  did  you  say  you  came  from  South  Carolina  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

* '  And  you  treat  a  Yankee  so  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  w^e  are  not  barbarians.  You  are  a  wounded 
prisoner,  and  have  no  business  to  be  here,  but  you  will  be 
well  treated." 

"  I  did  not  expect  it,  I  did  not  expect  it,  and  from  a 
South  Carolinian,  too.  If  I  ever  get  well,  I  will  fight  you 
no  more." 

I  sent  the  letter  ;  I  have  forgotten  the  name  of  the 
sender  and  the  address  ;  I  do  not  know  whether  the  letter 
was  received,  or  what  became  of  the  man.  My  duties 
called  me  elsewhere. 

The  Legion  was  some  miles  from  Warrenton  Junction, 
and  I  found  my  way  to  it.  The  sick,  and  there  were 
many,  were  in  a  sorry  plight  ;  so  I  got  Colonel  Hampton 
to  let  me  have  an  old  store,  and  permission  to  go  to 
Charlottesville,  Virginia,  to  the  Women's  Relief  Associa- 
tion storehouse,  where  was  Rev.  Robt.  W.  Barnwell,  the 
same  man  who  applied  for  a  dispensation  of  time,  and  with 
me  was  refused  by  the  Standing  Committee  in  1854,  and 
I  procured  a  large  amount  of  stores,  took  them  by  rail, 
and  soon  fitted  up  a  large  hospital,  which  added  much  to 
the  comfort  of  the  men.  The  soldiers  were  in  rags,  and 
Colonel  Hampton  sent  me  on  an  expedition  to  get  uni- 
forms for  his  men.  When  I  reached  Charleston  I  told 
some  of  our  influential  citizens  the  condition  of  all  our 
troops.     A  meeting  was  held  at  the  Bank  of  Charleston, 


132  Led  On  ! 

and  a  delegation  consisting  of  Judge  Magrath,  Wm.  D. 
Porter,  Henry  Gourdin,  Wm.  Bull  Pringle,  and  myself 
were  sent  to  Columbia  to  see  Governor  Pickens  and  to  tell 
him  of  the  soldiers'  needs,  and  to  offer  any  assistance  that 
the  banks  in  Charleston  could  give.  Governor  Pickens 
listened  impatiently,  drew  out  a  drawer,  and  read  with 
much  emphasis  from  a  document  he  had  in  it,  a  list  of 
the  articles  he  had  at  his  disposal,  not  enough  to  supply 
half  a  dozen  regiments  a  month  and  added,  he  was  much 
obliged  to  us,  but  the  State  did  not  need  the  aid  of  the 
banks.  Judge  Magrath  looked  at  me,  dropped  one  eye 
and  winked,  quietly  holding  up  his  hands,  and  we  broke 
up  the  audience.  The  committee  returned  to  Charleston 
with  gloomy  forbodings. 

I  returned  to  Virginia  with  the  uniforms,  and  after 
some  time  got  a  furlough  to  go  back  to  South  Carolina. 
While  in  camp  I  shared  the  bed  of  Captain  Conner,  and 
took  my  meals  with  Colonel  Hampton.  A  slapjack  with 
sorghum  was  a  luxurious  dessert  in  those  days. 

The  day  I  started  for  Richmond  a  long  train  of  sick  and 
wounded  soldiers  was  to  be  sent  off,  and  I  was  to  be  put 
in  charge  of  them.  When  we  reached  Warrenton  Junc- 
tion we  were  sided  off  on  the  Y.,  and  I  never  pass  the 
spot  that  I  do  not  think  of  that  awful  day  I  had  with 
some  eight  hundred  men,  all  needing  medicines,  food,  and 
water.  A  number  of  them  died  in  those  cars.  We  had 
to  send  a  long  way  for  water,  and  did  manage  to  gather  a 
little  coarse  food  and  there  we  were  kept  until  late  in  the 
afternoon.  Having  some  cigars,  I  went  into  the  baggage 
car  and  offering  the  conductor  a  cigar  I  begged  him  to  let 
me  sit  there  awhile,  for  I  was  worn  out  with  the  day's 
labor.  I  just  happened  to  look  at  my  watch,  and  said, 
* '  With  luck  we  will  be  in  Richmond  in  forty-five  minutes, ' ' 
when  an  awful  crash  came. 

The  train  stopped,  the  car  was  filled  with  steam,  and  I 


My  War  Experie^ices.  133 

was  flung  to  the  end  of  the  car,  with  two  or  three  boxes 
piled  on  me.  I  was  not,  however,  hurt,  so  as  soon  as  we 
could,  we  got  out.  We  found  we  had  run  round  a  sharp 
curve,  and  had  struck  a  freight  train  stalled  there  laden 
with  wheat.  Our  train  had  gone  through  three  of  the 
freight  cars,  splitting  them  open,  and  our  engine  was 
bottom  up,  some  fifteen  feet  below  the  embankment,  the 
engineer  with  his  ribs  broken.  Somehow  nothing  else 
had  left  the  track.  Instead  of  reaching  Richmond  in 
forty-five  minutes,  we  were  twenty-five  hours,  with  a 
train  of  wounded  and  sick  soldiers.  This  is  a  typical  in- 
stance of  Confederate  mismanagement.  The  want  of 
organization  and  administration,  I  verily  believe,  was 
what  neutrahzed  the  magnificent  fighting,  the  splendid 
endurance,  of  our  soldiers.  Had  other  departments  done 
as  well  as  the  troops  in  the  field,  there  is  no  telHng  what 
might  have  been  the  issue  of  the  war. 

I  made  several  trips  backwards  and  forwards  to  Virginia, 
but  as  I  was  only  the  chaplain  of  the  Washington  Light 
Infantry  Volunteers,  two  companies  that  were  in  the 
legion,  and  there  was  a  chaplain  for  the  rest,  I  accepted 
the  appointment  as  chaplain  of  the  25th  South  Carolina 
Regiment,  Colonel  Simonton,  as  the  old  Washington  Light 
Infantry  was  a  part  of  it,  and  went  over  to  James  Island 
with  my  new  command. 

Before  leaving  the  Hampton  Legion,  I  record  that  I  had 
purchased  a  small  silver  Communion  set,  and  used  it  in 
divine  service  under  the  trees  in  the  open  field.  Colonel 
Hampton  and  many  officers  and  soldiers  were  accustomed 
to  receive  the  Holy  Communion  there.  Colonel  Benj. 
Allston,  of  a  Texas  regiment,  now  Rev.  Mr.  Allston, 
brought  to  me  Colonel  Pender  of  the  8th  North  Carolina 
Regiment,  and  after  full  instruction  I  baptized  him,  sur- 
rounded by  all  his  regiment.  He  was  afterwards  made  a 
General  and  was  killed  retreating  from  Pennsylvania. 


1 34  Led  On  I 

Such  was  the  character  of  my  army  ministrations.  On 
James  Island,  as  chaplain  of  the  25th  Regiment,  Colonel 
Simonton  in  command,  I  had  a  service  of  prayer  and 
praise  with  a  short  sermon  every  night  ;  for  owing  to  the 
inspection  and  dress  parade  and  other  military  duties  I 
could  not  get  the  men  before  midday.  Having  no  house 
to  worship  in  and  few  trees,  the  intense  heat  of  the  sun 
made  Sunday  morning  service  impossible.  Eventually, 
however.  Gen.  R.  E.  Lee  had  ordered  inspection  and  dress 
parade  so  arranged,  that  time  could  be  given  all  the  chap- 
lains to  have  a  morning  service  in  all  his  regiments.  I 
knew  General  Lee,  so  I  wrote  to  him  and  asked  him  to 
extend  the  order  to  the  whole  army,  expressing  my  pro- 
found respect  and  esteem  for  him,  and  winding  up  my 
letter  by  telling  him  what  a  source  of  strength  and  com- 
fort it  was  to  many  of  us  to  think  that  in  this  time  of  our 
country's  sore  distress  that  he,  in  whose  hands,  humanly 
speaking,  our  destiny  rested,  was  himself  leaning  on  the 
Divine  Arm  for  strength  and  the  Divine  Wisdom  for 
direction. 

Of  course  I  knew  General  Lee,  but  scarcely  expected 
that  he  would  remember  a  young  chaplain  who  had  in  no 
way  distinguished  himself,  and  consequently  I  did  not  look 
for  a  reply.  But  in  due  time  I  received  an  autograph 
letter  from  the  General,  in  which  he  gave  me  full  direc- 
tions how  to  accomplish  m}^  aim,  and  expressing  his 
pleasure  that  the  chaplains  appreciated  his  order.  He 
added  his  appreciation  of  my  expressions  about  him,  and 
only  wished  they  were  deserved,  but  he  added,  "It  is 
true  that  I  am  daily  seeking  guidance  from  our  Heavenly 
Father,  and  do  lean  only  on  His  arm  for  protection. ' ' 

The  letter  was  a  foolscap  sheet,  written  from  top  to 
bottom.  It  was  dated  the  daj^  before  the  beginning  of  that 
series  ot  engagements  which  culminated  in  the  utter  rout 
of  Pope,  and  the  second  battle  of  Manassas.     With  his 


My  War  Experie7ices.  135 

mind  full  of  the  plans  for  that  campaign,  that  he  should 
turn  aside,  and  write  to  an  obscure  chaplain  five  hundred 
miles  away,  was  perfectly  characteristic  of  that  glorious 
man,  that  great  soldier,  that  greater  Christian  gentleman, 
whose  fame  will  grow  more  brilliant  as  the  years  go  on, 
until  the  children's  children  of  South  and  North  grow  to 
be  proud  of  the  great  American,  who  has  shed  lustre  on 
his  country.* 

At  the  second  battle  of  Manassas,  Charles  Steadman 
Atkinson,  a  younger  brother  of  my  wife,  named  after  an 
uncle,  his  mother's  brother,  a  rear-admiral  in  the  United 
States  Navy,  was  killed.  I  took  a  furlough,  and  went  to 
Virginia  to  look  for  his  body.  I  had  taken  him  when  he 
was  quite  young  to  live  with  us.  I  had  sent  him  to  school, 
and  he  went  from  my  house  to  the  army. 

All  we  knew  was  that  he  had  been  buried  on  the  field 
near  a  farmhouse  not  far  from  a  cowshed,  and  that  he  had 
been  shot  in  the  forehead.  I  went  to  Warrenton,  which 
was  full  of  wounded  men  from  Manassas  and  Sharpsburg, 
and  received  great  kindness  from  the  rector,  Rev.  Dr. 
Barten.  Having  purchased  a  cofiin,  I  went  on  the  search. 
It  was  a  gruesome  hunt. 

After  a  while  I  spied  the  ruins  of  a  farmhouse,  where  a 
cowshed  was  still  standing,  and  near  it  was  three  graves. 
One  of  these  I  believed  to  be  my  boy's,  but  which  ?  I  do 
not  know  why,  but  I  determined  to  try  the  middle  grave. 
The  man  I  had  with  me,  and  had  brought  the  cofiin  on 
his  cart,  dug  away  about  eighteen  inches  of  earth,  and 
we  came  to  some  rough  boards  ;  these  we  removed,  and 
there  was  a  soldier  wrapped  in  a  blanket.  Those  who  had 
buried  him  had  put  side  boards  up,  so  that  the  thin  cover 
of  earth  had  not  reached  the  body.  I  turned  back  the 
blanket  from  the  face,  and  found  it  was  the  body  I  was 

*  I  lost  that  letter  with  other  valuable  papers  at  the  burning  of 
Columbia.     I  would  give  a  great  deal  could  I  recover  it. 


136  Led  On  / 

looking  for.  A  bullet-hole  was  in  his  forehead.  I  recog- 
nized my  boy  at  once,  for  dissolution  had  not  disfigured 
him.  I  took  one  long  look  at  him,  covered  the  face,  and 
the  man  and  I  lifted  the  body,  placed  it  in  the  coffin,  and 
started  back  for  Warrenton.  We  had  scarcely  started, 
when,  looking  at  some  distant  hills,  I  saw  a  long  line  of 
blue-coats  emerge  from  the  horizon. 

We  were  in  a  comparatively  open  plain.  I  was  dressed 
in  Confederate  uniform,  and  I  saw  that  we  w^ere  perceived. 
I  therefore  directed  the  carter  to  keep  the  road,  while 
I  struck  off  for  a  ravine  and  twisted  around  under  cover 
until  I  was  satisfied  I  w^as  out  of  range.  As  I  did  not 
wish  to  be  captured,  and  go  to  a  Northern  prison,  I  did 
some  good  dodging. 

I  reached  Warrenton  in  safety,  and  after  a  while  the 
w^agon  came  with  the  corpse.  Dr.  Barten  read  the  service 
for  me,  and  we  laid  the  boy,  for  he  w^as  only  a  boy,  as, 
alas,  so  many  other  Confederates  were,  in  the  churchyard, 
where  he  awaits  the  summons  to  arise.  I  placed  a  stone 
over  his  grave.* 

Having  finished  this  mournful  duty,  I  hurried  to  the 
hospital,  where  there  were  two  thousand  six  hundred 
wounded  men  lying. 

On  my  way  to  Richmond,  I  had  supplied  myself  with  a 

*  The  burial  of  my  boy  in  Warrenton  recalls  a  fact  that  few 
know.  After  the  war  was  well  on,  and  there  was  danger  that 
Charleston  might  fall,  Mr.  Robert  Gourdin,  who  was  a  devoted 
disciple  of  John  Calhoun,  went  at  night  with  a  trusted  few  and  re- 
moved his  body  from  its  tomb  in  St.  Philip's  churchyard  and 
buried  it  in  another  part  of  the  grounds.  It  was  feared  that  if  the 
city  fell  animosity  might  induce  the  violation  of  the  grave  of  the 
great  Carolinian.  After  the  war  it  was  exhumed  and  replaced,  and 
the  State,  through  the  exertions  of  Hon.  W.  A.  Courtenay,  erected 
the  monument  over  him  in  his  resting-place  in  St.  Philip's  church- 
yard. John  Gregg,  the  then  colored  sexton,  is  the  only  one,  I 
think,  now  living  who  was  present. 


My  War  Experiences. 


137 


quantity  of  smoking  tobacco,  a  stock  of  Powhatan  pipes, 
and  some  reed  stems.  Carrying  as  much  of  these  com- 
modities as  I  could  handle,  I  entered  a  large  ward.  As  I 
came  in  some  of  the  men  looked  up,  and  I  said,  ' '  Boys,  I 
have  brought  you  some  tobacco  ;  all  who  want  some  raise 
your  hands." 

There  was  a  general  hand-showing,  and  I  went  round 
and  gave  out  all  I  had.  Much  disappointment  was  shown 
by  those  who  had  not  been  served,  until  I  went  back  to 
the  parsonage  and  brought  another  supply.  Eventually 
everyone  who  wanted  a  pipe  had  one.  When  they  got  to 
smoking,  they  looked  happy.  Soon  after  this  someone 
called  out  loud,  "  Now,  Chaplain,  give  us  some  prayers," 
which  of  course  I  did. 

Three  or  four  days  after  a  runner  came  in,  sajdng  the 
Federals  were  upon  us.  I  therefore  bade  the  boys  good- 
bye. Putting  on  my  knapsack,  I  took  to  the  road,  and 
walked  over  to  Culpepper  Court  House,  and  so  returned 
to  James  Island. 


CHAPTER  XV 


THB  BLOODY  "  CUL-DK-SAC  " 


Tent  worship — The  Federals  in  the  bloody  ''cul-de-sac''' — / 
am  under  fire — Scenes  of  slaughter — A  strange  incident — 
Church  plans  at  Charleston — A  financial  blimder.for  which 
I  ani  scarcely  accoimtable —  What  might  have  been  had  I 
followed  Tny  business  iiistincts. 

IT  was  my  habit  to  gather  every  Sunday  night  in  my 
tent  a  number  of  the  young  men  who  had  fine  voices. 
Colonel  Simonton  allowed  me  to  keep  my  light  burning 
as  long  as  I  wished. 

On  Sunday  night,  June  15th,  there  were  about  a  dozen 
of  them,  and  after  singing  many  hymns,  they  concluded 
with  ' '  Bow  down  thine  ear,  O  Lord, ' '  from  Moses  in  Egypt. 

*'  And  now,"  I  said,  "  let  us  all  kneel,  and  join  in  the 
Lord's  Prayer,"  which  we  did,  and  I  rose,  and  pronounced 
the  benediction  after  the  prayer.  We  then  shook  hands 
and  bade  good-night. 

At  4  A.M.  the  long  roll  beat,  the  whole  camp  was  astir, 
and  in  a  twinkling  the  troops  were  on  the  double-quick  to 
Secessionville,  for  an  attack  was  being  made  on  the  battery. 

There  is  a  narrow  tongue  of  sand  projecting  from  the 
village  of  Secessionville  with  a  bold  creek  on  one  side  and 
a  wide  impassable  marsh  on  the  other.  At  the  narrow 
point  which  adjoined  a  wide  cotton  field  a  strong  battery 

138 


The  Bloody  ''  Ctil-de-Sacy  139 

had  been  built  by  Colonel  I^.  M.  Hatch,  whose  death  is  in 
to-day's  paper,  January  12,  1897.  0-  ^^^^.d  as  I  drop  my 
pen  for  a  second. )  There  was  a  dense  fog  and  the  attack 
was  well  planned.  The  Federal  troops  advanced,  over- 
came the  pickets,  Capt.  Thos.  Simons  in  command,  and 
before  those  at  the  battery  were  aware  of  it,  pickets  and 
Federals  together  rushed  in  on  them.  A  desperate  hand- 
to-hand  fight  ensued.  The  enemy  were  knocked  on  the 
head  with  empty  bottles,  for  there  were  plenty  of  them, 
shot  with  pistols,  clubbed  with  butts  of  rifles,  and  driven 
off,  so  that  the  guns  got  them  in  range  and  played  havoc 
with  their  ranks. 

By  this  time  reinforcements  had  poured  into  the  battery, 
the  Louisiana  Tigers  and  many  others.  Our  regiment 
was  marched  to  the  flank,  so  that  the  marsh  lay  between 
us  and  the  battery.  As  the  fog  lifted,  the  second  assault 
was  made  by  the  Federals.  It  was  a  brave  assault,  but 
scarcely  to  be  called  war.  The  cannon  poured  shot  into 
their  shelterless  ranks,  the  parapet  was  lined  with  men 
with  rifles  who  knew  how  to  shoot,  and  we  were  on  their 
flank,  concealed  by  a  thick  wood,  dealing  death.  It  was 
an  awful  slaughter  ;  for  when  once  the  Confederates  had 
awakened  to  the  situation,  the  attacking  party  found 
themselves  in  a  sort  of  cul-de-sac. 

As  our  regiment  had  over  a  mile  to  run,  in  taking  up 
its  position.  Doctor  Ravenel,  the  surgeon,  and  I  took  our 
horses  and  followed,  riding  down  into  an  open  cotton  field. 
The  enemy,  fired  upon  from  the  woods  by  our  men,  re- 
turned volley  after  volley,  and  some  of  the  balls  began  to 
whiz  past  our  ears. 

' '  lyook  here.  Doctor, ' '  I  said,  ' '  this  is  no  place  for  you. 
You  are  wanted  to  help  wounded  men  ;  take  my  horse  and 
go  back  to  the  field  hospital,  for  I  don't  wish  my  animal 
to  be  killed,  and  I  will  go  on  and  see  if  there  is  anything 
for  me  to  do. ' ' 


140  Led  On  ! 

I  walked  down  towards  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  took 
my  stand  in  the  open  cotton  field.  I  could  see  nothing, 
but  the  bullets  were  uncomfortably  close,  and  too  many 
to  be  pleasant.  Colonel  Hagood  (Afterwards  General,* 
and  then  Governor  of  South  Carolina)  rode  out  of  the 
thicket  and  asked  what  I  was  doing  there  ? 

"  Waiting,"  I  said,  '*  to  see  what  I  can  do." 

* '  I  order  you,  sir,  to  leave, ' '  he  said. 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  you  are  not  my  Colonel,  and  I  will 
not  obey  you. ' ' 

We  both  laughed,  though  the  situation  was  pretty 
serious. 

*'  Well,"  he  answered,  "  go,  then,  and  sit  behind  that 
stump,  or  you  will  certainly  be  killed  for  no  object." 

*  *  I  will  obey  that  order. ' ' 

He  went  back  into  the  thicket,  and  I  went  for  the 
stump.  It  was  the  stump  of  a  large  pine  tree.  A  moment 
after  two  bullets  struck  the  stump.  Jumping  up,  under 
the  impression  that  I  was  in  the  exact  range,  I  went  out 
again  into  the  open  field.  I  would  have  lain  down  be- 
tween the  cotton  hills,  but  unfortunately  they  ran  the 
wrong  way.  Had  they  been  crosswise  they  would  have 
been  a  protection  ;  for  it  is  remarkable  how  slight  an  ob- 
struction is  a  protection  in  battle.  They  ran  lengthwise, 
however,  and  I  had  scarcely  reached  the  ground  when  a 
whole  volley  scattered  round  and  over  me,  flinging  the 
dirt  upon  me.  I  do  not  know  why  I  escaped  death.  I 
must  have  been  shielded  by  a  merciful  Providence,  who 
still  had  some  work  for  me  to  do.  With  a  bound  I  stood 
upright  and  said  to  myself,  ' '  This  is  a  mean  way  to  die  ; 
if  I  am  to  be  shot,  I  will  fall  like  a  man."  But  soon  my 
attention  was  drawn  in  another  direction,  for  young  Chris- 
topher Trumbo  came  running  out  of  the  woods,  and  holding 
up  his  hand,  exclaimed  :  "  Oh,  Mr.  Porter,  see  what  the 
Yankees  have  done  to  me  ;  they  have  shot  off  my  thumb." 

*  General  Hagood  died  Jan.  5,  1898. 


The  Bloody  **  Cul-de-Sac"  141 

"  Thank  God,"  I  said,  "  they  have  not  shot  off  your 
head.  Go  to  the  rear  ;  you  will  find  Doctor  Ravenel 
waiting  for  you." 

A  few  seconds  afterwards  three  men  came  out,  two  sup- 
porting their  comrade  between  them.  He  was  spitting 
blood  and  the  others  were  carrying  his  gun.  I  found  that 
a  bullet  had  struck  him,  but  his  belt  or  buckle  had  turned 
it,  and  he  was  suffering  merely  from  concussion. 

"  Go  back,  men,"  I  said,  **  you  are  needed  there.  Give 
me  this  man  ;  I  will  take  him  to  the  rear." 

They  went  back  very  reluctantly,  and  I  did  not  blame 
them.  I  took  the  man,  and  we  had  not  gone  far,  before 
a  shower  of  bullets  enveloped  us.  Fortunately,  a  quarter 
drain  was  at  hand,  and  we  got  into  it.  As  the  fusillade 
stopped,  we  started  again,  and  reaching  the  rear,  I  turned 
the  wounded  man  over  to  the  Doctor  and  returned. 

When  I  got  near  the  edge  of  the  woods,  a  dead  man 
was  brought  out  ;  it  was  Fleetwood  Laneau.  I  helped 
with  his  body,  took  him  out  of  range,  and  went  back  to 
meet  the  body  of  R.  W.  Greer  ;  did  the  same  for  him,  and 
returned  to  meet  Thos.  N.  Chapman's  body;  repeated  for 
him  what  we  had  done  for  the  others,  and  went  back  to 
meet  them  bringing  I.  H.  Tavener,  shot  through  the 
body.  These  were  four  of  the  twelve  who  had  been  sing- 
ing in  my  tent  at  twelve  o'clock  the  night  before,  and 
the  sun  had  just  risen.     Such  is  war  ! 

We  had  to  take  poor  Tavener  farther  than  we  had  car- 
ried the  others,  and  by  the  time  I  got  back  to  the  field, 
the  battle  was  over.  Four  as  gallant  assaults  as  have  ever 
been  made  had  been  made  by  the  Federals.  They  fought 
with  determined  desperation,  but  the  more  men  they 
brought  the  more  we  killed,  for  it  was  a  narrow  place,  in 
which  they  were  compelled  to  keep  advancing,  so  that  we 
mowed  them  down  like  wheat.  We  buried  over  a  thou- 
sand of  their  dead,  in  the  immediate  front  of  the  battery. 


142  Led  On  ! 

While  I  was  on  James  Island  a  circumstance  occurred 
for  which  I  vouch,  while  I  share  in  tLe  wonder  it  may  ex- 
cite in  the  mind  of  the  reader.  I  wished  to  have  a  cele- 
bration of  the  Holy  Communion,  but  had  left  my  Com- 
munion set  in  Virginia.*  I  tried  to  buy  proper  vessels  in 
Charleston,  but  could  not.  I  did  not  feel  authorized  to 
take  the  sacred  vessels  belonging  to  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Communion,  and  the  only  things  I  could  get  were 
fluted  tumblers.  These  I  used  in  the  Communion  Office. 
After  the  service  I  washed  them,  and  put  them  in  the 
basket,  saying  I  would  see  they  were  never  used  for  any- 
thing else.  I  wiped  the  second  tumbler,  and  put  my  hand 
into  the  covered  basket  to  put  the  tumbler  in  ;  it  slipped 
out  of  my  hand  and  fell  on  the  other  tumbler,  and  broke 
both  into  the  smallest  fragments.  There  was  not  a  piece 
left  large  enough  to  put  a  teaspoonful  of  water  or  wine  in. 
There  was  not  a  distance  of  two  inches  between  the  tum- 
blers when  the  one  fell  on  the  other ;  all  of  us  around  were 
amazed  and  awed.  I  upset  the  basket,  and  gathered  the 
fragments  and  buried  them.  Some  may  think  a  plain, 
practical  man,  as  this  narrative  shows  I  have  been,  has  no 
superstition  in  his  make-up.  But  I  do  not  deem  it  super- 
stition, when  I  say  those  glasses  had  been  used  for  the 
most  solemn  rite  in  which  man  can  engage  ;  they  had 
contained  consecrated  wine,  the  symbol  of  the  Redeemer's 
shed  blood.  Most  likely  sometimes  they  might  have  been 
used  for  drinking  whiskey  out  of  them,  and  it  was  not 
meant  that  they  should  be  profaned  by  such  use  again.  I 
never  again  had  the  opportunity  to  administer  the  Holy 
Communion  to  the  soldiers  ;  we  were  kept  moving  about 
and  were  so  constantly  on  the  alert,  that  there  was  no 
chance  for  me  to  do  so. 

Some  Sundays,  however,  I  used  to  run  up  to  Charleston 

*  This  set  General  Logan  has  recently  presented  to  the  relic 
collection  in  Richmond. 


The  Bloody  "  Cul-de-Sacy  143 

and  hold  service  at  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion. 
It  was  at  one  such  service,  held  in  January,  1863,  that  I 
stepped  forward  in  the  chancel,  just  before  the  sermon, 
and  told  the  congregation  I  felt  that  the  war  must  soon 
end,  and  I  wished  to  build  a  church  that  would  be  a  church, 
to  cost  not  less  than  two  hundred  thousand  dollars — two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  as  a  thank-offering  to  Almighty 
God  for  the  restoration  of  peace.  I  proposed  that  we 
would  raise  the  walls  of  this  present  church,  make  a  two- 
story  building  of  it,  and  give  it  as  a  home  to  widows  and 
orphans  of  the  Confederacy  who  might  be  in  need.  Mr. 
Geo.  A.  Trenholm,  who  was  then  the  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury  of  the  Confederate  States,  happened  to  be  in 
church.  He,  the  next  day,  wrote  me  a  letter  expressing 
approval  of  my  views,  and  enclosed  a  check  for  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars,  telling  me  to  invest  it  as  I  pleased,  to  collect 
all  I  could  from  the  congregation,  and  go  on  with  my  plans. 
He  added  that  whatever  deficiency  there  was,  he  would  sup- 
ply the  same.  His  wife  would  give  the  organ,  he  said,  his 
children  the  stained-glass  windows.  He  told  me  that  if  I 
would  select  a  lot,  Mrs.  Trenholm  would  pay  for  it.  I 
bought  the  lot  in  Rutledge  Avenue,  nearly  in  front  of  what 
is  now  Radclifie  Street,  and  where  Mr.  George  Wagner  has 
his  brick  house,  and  Mr.  Trenholm  gave  me  his  check  for 
$6500  for  the  purchase,  in  the  name  of  Mrs.  Trenholm. 
With  this  beginning  and  his  assurance,  I  was  very  happy. 
Before  depositing  Mr.  Trenholm' s  check  I  unfortunately 
showed  it  to  a  certain  banker,  and  told  him  my  plans. 
This  banker  was  a  noble  layman,  but  he  made  me  make 
an  awful  blunder. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  this  ^50,000  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  I  am  going  right  down  to  the  wharf  to  buy  cotton 
with  it.  There  are  now  fifteen  blockade  runners  in  port. 
I   will  put   three  bales  on   each  steamer,   and  if  three 


1 44  Led  On  ! 


steamers  out  of  five  get  through  I  will  sell  the  cotton  on 
the  other  side,  deposit  half  the  proceeds  there  in  England, 
sell  exchange  for  the  other  half,  and  keep  at  it  until  I 
have  the  whole  fifty  thousand  in  gold  on  the  other  side." 

*  *  You  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind, ' '  he  said. 

"  And  why  not?  Here  is  Mr.  Trenholm's  authority 
to  do  as  I  please  with  it." 

"  If  you  act  so,  it  will  show  the  church  has  no  confi- 
dence in  the  cause,  and  the  money  will  do  more  harm 
than  good." 

I  did  not  see  it  in  this  way,  and  my  business  instincts 
told  me  I  was  right,  and  I  answered,  ' '  Confidence  or  not, 
this  is  trust  money  of  the  Church.  As  to  my  own  money, 
you  know,  sir,  I  have  sold  all  my  bank  stock,  railroad 
stock,  private  bonds,  and  have  bought  from  you  Confed- 
erate eight  per  cent,  bonds.  That  was  my  own,  and  I 
have  shown  my  confidence,  and  put  everything  in  Con- 
federate securities  save  one  house  in  Ashley  Street,  and  if 
there  was  any  market  for  real  estate,  that  would  go  too, 
but  I  have  no  right  to  risk  this  trust  fund,  and  I  will  not 
doit." 

'*  I  will  go  and  see  Mr.  Trenholm,"  he  replied,  "  and 
he  will  stop  5^our  cotton  speculations. ' ' 

I  wish  now  that  I  had  let  him  go.  I  might  have  had 
time  to  set  three  or  four  agents  to  work,  to  buy  the  cotton 
before  Mr.  Trenholm  could  find  me.  Even  if  I  had  gone 
myself  to  Mr.  Trenholm  I  might  have  out-talked  my 
friend  the  banker,  for  I  am  sure  Mr.  Trenholm  would 
have  been  on  my  side. 

Foolishly  I  gave  in,  and  bought  Confederate  eight  per 
cent,  bonds,  which  after  the  war  I  sold  for  $350,  just 
enough  to  purchase  carpets  for  the  chancel  and  aisles  of 
the  old  church.  The  war  ran  on  sixteen  months  longer, 
and  blockade  runners  went  regularly  during  that  time. 
If  I  had  carried  out  my  original  plan  with  regard  to  that 


The  Bloody  ''  Ctcl-de-Sac" 


145 


I 


fifty  thousand  dollars,  I  could  have  sent  hundreds  of  bales 
of  cotton  to  England,  and  at  the  price  of  cotton  here  and 
there,  I  could  have  had  a  million  dollars  for  the  church 
after  the  war;  could  have  rehabilitated  this  desolated 
diocese,  and  not  have  been  struggling  as  I  am  now  to  keep 
alive  that  very  parish  of  the  Holy  Communion,  and  the 
still  more  important  work  of  which  an  account  will  come 
later.  Here  was  a  banker's  judgment  against  a  poor  par- 
son's, the  class  that  has  to  do  the  hardest  financiering  of 
any  among  men,  but  who,  as  most  laymen  think,  know 
nothing  about  finance. 


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CHAPTER  XVI 

SOME  OF  THE   HORRORS   OF  WAR 

The  shelling  of  Charlesto7i — I  a7n  in  the  thick  of  it — A  work 
of  mercy — "  Mamma,  I  saw  him,  die  !  ' ' —  Yellow  fever — 
The  death  of  my  first  bor7i — ' '  O  Lord,  save  Thy  people, 
and  bless  Thine  heritage  " — G^-ief  a^id  patiejice. 


THE  Federals  had  been  shelling  Charleston  from  Morris 
Island  for  two  years.  It  was  a  senseless  waste.  It 
cost  the  United  States  a  great  deal  and  did  little  harm  to 
the  city  ;  many  shells  fell  short  of  the  city,  many  struck 
in  the  burnt  district,  or  exploded  in  the  streets,  and 
the  damage  was  inconsiderable.  St.  Michael's  and  St. 
Philip's  steeples  were  the  targets  St.  Philip's  was  struck 
and  injured  a  good  deal,  St.  Michael's  twice.  The  last 
shell  fired  struck  the  chancel  and  revealed  a  large  win- 
dow that  had  been  bricked  up.  There  is  now  a  hand- 
some stained-glass  window  put  in  by  the  Frost  family, 
in  memoriam.  This  senseless  bombardment  in  no  wise 
furthered  the  object  of  the  war.  It  killed  some  eighty 
inoffensive  old  people,  men  and  women,  but  did  not  hit  a 
soldier,  for  there  were  none  in  the  city  to  hit.  They  were 
all  on  the  fortifications. 

The  Federal  admiral  has  been  blamed  for  not  steaming 
in  and  taking  the  city.     He  knew  better  than  his  critics. 

146 


Some  of  the  Horrors  of  War.  147 

'^The  harbor  was  magnificently  fortified,  the  channel  was 
filled  with  torpedoes,  and  on  every  spot  in  it  one  hundred 
guns  of  the  largest  calibre  could  be  concentrated.  No 
vessel  afloat  could  have  been  above  water  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  By  the  zeal  of  the  blockade  runners,  and  the  in- 
domitable will  of  the  people,  as  soon  as  Sumter  fell,  forti- 
fications had  been  planned  and  constructed,  so  that  the 
place  was  impregnable.  Thus  Charleston  was  never  cap- 
tured, although  it  was  evacuated  when  General  Sherman 
marched  through  South  Carolina  to  Columbia. 

During  these  terrible  days  Rev.  Mr.  Howe,  Rev.  G.  M. 
Green,  and  myself  were  then  the  only  Church  clergymen 
in  the  city,  and  very  few  others  of  any  denomination.  We 
divided  up  the  hospitals  and  each  of  us  visited  them  daily 
besides  performing  our  parish   duties.      The   Rev.   Mr. 
Dehon,  son  of  the  great  Bishop  Dehon,  had  died  of  disease 
taken  in  attending  the  hospitals.     But  our  calamities  were 
augmented  by  the  fact  that  in  August  yellow  fever  was 
brought   into   the   city   by   a   sick   sailor  on  one  of  the 
blockade  runners.    Smallpox  was  also  prevalent.     I  heard 
Doctor  Ozier,  the  then  most  prominent  local  physician, 
say  that  there  was  a  case  in  every  third  inhabited  house 
in  Charleston.     Of  course  we  clergymen  had  a  great  deal 
to  do.     We  were  forced  to  open  our  doors  to  the  shelter- 
less.    Dr.  Wragg,  from  Broad  Street,  when  burnt  out,  I 
had  invited  to  my  house,  which  had  twelve  rooms  in  it. 
Mr.  Allston  Pringle,  from  lower  end  of  King  Street,  A.  O. 
Andrews,  from  Hazel  Street,  both  shelled  out,  took  refuge 
at  my  home,  and  were  there  until  the  war  ended. 

One  incident  of  these  days  affects  me  in  the  remem- 
brance. When  General  Sherman  was  marching  through 
Georgia,  the  Federal  prisoners  at  Anderson  were  removed 
to  Florence  in  this  State.  A  temporary  track  had  been 
laid  through  Spring  Street  across  the  Ashley  River  bridge, 
and  leading  to  the  South  Carolina  Railroad  and  North- 


148  Led  On! 

eastern  Railroad  stations.  The  box-cars,  for  that  was  the 
only  kind  we  had,  often  stopped  at  our  corner,  for  my 
house  is  corner  of  Rutledge  and  Spring  Streets.  Many 
of  the  poor  men  were  down  with  scurvy. 

I  accordingly  laid  down  a  store  of  onions,  and  as  each 
train  stopped,  I  sent  out  my  two  little  boys  Toomer  and 
Theodore,  with  loaves  of  bread,  and  bags  of  onions  and 
fresh  water  to  the  prisoners.  On  Wednesday,  October 
20,  1864,  these  two  children  had  gone  as  usual  with  their 
stores  to  help  the  poor  fellows,  when  I  suddenly  saw  them 
running  back  weeping  bitterly.  The  eldest,  Toomer, 
nearly  eleven  years  old,  threw  himself  on  his  mother's 
knee,  and  said:  "  Oh,  mamma,  mamma,  I  saw  him  die. 
I  know  he  is  our  enemy,  but  I  saw  him  die  in  a  box-car. 
Maybe  he  is  some  boy's  papa,  and  suppose  my  dear  papa 
was  a  prisoner,  and  was  to  die  in  a  box-car,  what  should 
we  do?" 

The  child  sobbed  bitterly,  and  it  was  a  long  while  before 
we  could  comfort  him.  Such  was  the  child,  as  handsome 
a  boy  as  was  to  be  found  an}^ where,  and  apparently  in  high 
health.  But  even  then  I  felt  a  sort  of  foreboding,  and  on 
Friday  I  called  to  see  a  youth  who  was  very  ill  with  yel- 
low fever.  He  had  been  an  orphan  under  the  care  of  an 
aunt,  and  I  told  this  woman  not  to  distress  herself,  as  I 
had  seen  so  many  cases  of  fever,  that  I  was  justified  in 
assuring  her  that,  judging  from  his  symptoms,  he  would 
not  die,  and  he  did  not.  "  But,"  I  said  to  her,  **  I  am 
passing  under  the  shadow  of  a  great  cloud.  I  do  not  know 
what  it  is,  but  I  feel  I  am  about  to  be  greatly  afflicted." 

She  tried  in  vain  to  cheer  me. 

On  the  following  Saturday  I  was  writing  a  sermon  on 
the  text,  St.  John,  iv.,  49,  *'  And  the  nobleman  said,  '  Sir, 
come  down,  ere  my  child  die.'  "  When  writing,  my  boy 
came  to  me  and  said :  ' '  Do,  papa,  come  and  help  me  raise 
my  kite,  I  cannot  do  it  by  myself. ' ' 


Some  of  the  JFIorro7's  of  War.  149 

I  was  inclined  to  put  him  off,  but  I  had  been  in  the 
habit  always  to  grant  my  children's  requests,  if  I  could, 
so  I  went,  and  raised  his  kite  for  him.  How  glad  I  have 
been  since  then  that  I  did  it  !  At  supper  time  (a  frugal 
meal,  for  we  had  not  had  butter  for  months,  and  our  only 
sugar  was  sorghum  molasses,  with  only  a  substitute  for 
tea  and  coffee)  I  noticed  that  my  child  did  not  eat  his 
supper.  I  said  to  him :  '  *  You  do  not  seem  to  fancy  the 
molasses ;  perhaps  your  mother  can  spare  you  some 
milk." 

He  took  the  milk,  but  still  did  not  eat  his  supper. 
I  noticed  it,  and  he  said:  "  I  do  not  feel  very  well,  and  if 
you  will  excuse  me,  papa,  I  will  go  to  the  fire." 

I  told  him  to  go^  and  my  wife,  happening  to  look  at  me, 
observed  there  was  a  look  of  distress  on  my  face. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  you  are  too  anxious." 

'  *  You  do  not  remember,  wife,  that  there  is  a  pestilence 
raging. ' ' 

The  shadow  of  a  great  gloom  settled  on  me.  I  pushed 
off  from  the  table,  and  said,  '  *  We  will  have  family  pray- 
ers, and  then  you  can  go  to  bed,  my  son." 

When  we  rose  from  our  knees,  the  dear  boy  still  knelt, 
and  was  asleep.     I  went  to  him  and  took  him  up. 

"Oh,  papa  !  "  he  said,  "  I  am  so  sorry  I  went  to  sleep 
at  prayers,  but  I  am  so  tired." 

I  said,  "  Put  your  arms  around  papa,  and  give  him  one 
good  hug."  He  did — it  was  the  last.  I  took  him  on  my 
back,  and  carried  him  upstairs,  and  in  seventy-four  hours 
I  brought  his  lifeless  body  down  again.  Doctor  Wragg 
was  in  the  house  and  had  done  all  that  could  be  done,  but 
the  boy  died  of  yellow  fever.  In  twenty-four  hours,  my 
other  two  children,  and  my  sister's  little  orphan  girl,  my 
adopted  daughter,  were  all  down  with  it.  Their  cases 
were  mild.  Toomer's  was  violent  from  the  beginning. 
His  pathetic  pleas  for  ice  wrung  our  hearts,  for  the  fortune 


150  Led  On! 

of  the  Vanderbilts  could  not  have  bought  a  pound  in 
the  city  of  Charleston.  We  had  no  ice  machines  then, 
and  we  could  get  nothing  from  the  North.  The  last  day 
Toomer  repeated  the  collect  he  had  studied  for  Sunday, 
the  Gloria  in  Excelsis,  the  Creed,  the  Gloria  Patri, 
verses  of  the  Psalter,  hymn  after  hymn.  But  his  nerves 
seemed  to  have  received  a  shock.  The  condition  we  were 
all  in  seemed  to  prey  on  his  mind.  The  crash  of  shells 
falling  in  the  city,  and  bursting  every  few  minutes,  the 
alarm  of  fire  every  now  and  then,  the  poor  food  we  were 
eating,  the  prisoners  passing  our  door — all  seemed  to  weigh 
him  down.  At  last  he  clasped  his  hands,  and  turning  up 
his  beautiful  eyes,  he  said,  * '  O  I^ord,  save  Thy  people, 
and  bless  Thine  heritage."  Then,  putting  his  two  hands 
in  his  mother's  (she  was  standing  on  the  left  side  of  the 
bed,  and  I  on  the  right),  he  said,  "  Mamma,  it  is  so  hard, 
it  is  so  hard, ' '  then  turning  to  me,  he  put  his  hands  in 
mine,  and  said,  "  Papa,  let  me  go,  let  me  go."  I,  consent- 
ing, said,  "  Go,  my  darling,  if  Jesus  calls  you." 

I  sank  on  my  knees,  and  before  I  could  raise  my  head, 
he  had  gone, — gone  to  be  with  our  dear  lyord,  gone  to  his 
life-work  in  His  presence.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  when- 
ever I  have  since  heard  those  words  in  the  Te  Deum,  ' '  O 
lyord,  save  Thy  people  and  bless  Thine  heritage, ' '  my  son's 
dear  voice  has  sounded  in  my  ears,  and  this  scene  risen 
vividly  before  my  mind  ? 

A  remarkable  incident  connected  with  the  church  hap- 
pened while  he  was  dying.  In  September,  1864,  Mr.  T. 
D.  Wagner  had  said,  that  as  there  was  still  some  debt  on 
the  church  and  on  the  Sunday-school,  and  it  was  no 
time  to  have  debts,  he  wished  to  know  the  full  amount 
still  due.  I  accordingly  told  it  to  him,  namely,  $3,360  on 
the  church,  and  $5,145.95  on  the  school-house,  for  the  in- 
terest was  unpaid  for  three  years,  and  had  increased  the 
original  amount  due.     Mr.  Wagner  gave  me  his  check  for 


Some  of  the  Horrors  of  War.  151 

the  sum,  and  thus  we  satisfied  the  mortgage  on  the 
church  and  school-house. 

It  was  while  I  was  standing  at  the  bedside  of  the  dying 
boy,  a  package  was  handed  me  from  the  post  office.  I 
threw  it  unopened  into  a  drawer  and  some  days  afterwards 
opened  and  found  these  satisfied  papers.  This  my  son, 
therefore,  was  born  the  hour  that  I  was  holding  the  first 
service  at  the  arsenal,  8th  of  January,  1854,  and  the  papers 
freeing  the  finished  church  from  debt,  were  handed  me 
whilst  he  was  dying. 

Little  Toomer  was  buried  the  26th  of  October,  at  Mag- 
nolia cemetery,  by  his  brother  and  sister,  for  we  could 
not  get  to  Georgetown  on  account  of  the  blockade.* 

On  the  27th  of  October,  I  was  called  upon  to  bury  a  lad 
named  Knox,  at  St.  Paul's  Church,  who  had  also  died  of 
yellow  fever.  I  was  about  to  refuse,  but  my  dear  wife 
said,  "  Husband,  God  requires  of  you  to  set  an  example; 
go  and  do  your  duty. ' ' 

So  I  went,  and  as  I  met  the  corpse  at  the  door, — it  was 
in  the  same  kind  of  coffin,  one  even  of  the  same  size, — I 
seemed  to  be  burying  my  child  again.  I  reeled,  and 
almost  fell,  but  gathering  myself  together,  I  read  the  ser- 
vice through,  and  from  that  time  just  kept  on  with  my 
duties;  preached  the  next  Sunday,  although  with  a  heart 
as  nearly  broken  as  a  man's  ever  is;  and  I  believe  if  I 
had  not  gone  right  to  work,  and  kept  at  it,  I  should  have 
become  crazy.  I  did  not  grieve  less  because  I  did  what 
duty  required,  but  it  gave  me  strength  to  bear.  There  is 
a  large  lot  attached  to  my  house,  and  I  laid  it  out  in  a 
handsome  flower-garden,  bought  some  plants  and  worked 
hard,  when  not  engaged  in  ministerial  offices,  just  to 
drown  thought,  and  tire  myself,  so  that  I  could  sleep. 
The  other  children  all  recovered. 

*  I  removed  their  bodies  to  that  place,  and  to  my  family  burying- 
ground  in  January,  1870,  but  the  anguish  was  too  much  for  me, 
and  brought  on  a  hemorrhage  while  the  removal  was  being  made. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


BURNING   OF   COLUMBIA 


Non-combatants  driveii  from  Charleston — My  lost  sermons — 
Adventures  of  some  port  wine — Burning  of  Cohmtbia — 
Drunkenness  and  robbery  enter  with  General  Sherman — A 
panic-stricken  people. 

MATTERS  were  getting  worse  ;  it  was  determined  to 
hold  Charleston  to  the  last  extremity,  to  fight 
street  by  street,  if  attacked,  and  orders  were  issued  to  re- 
move all  non-combatants  from  the  city ;  especially  women 
and  children. 

I  therefore  started  with  my  family  to  Anderson,  but 
before  we  reached  Alston,  twenty-five  miles  from  Colum- 
bia, the  train  was  halted.  An  immense  freshet,  we  were 
told,  was  coming  down  the  river,  and  had  carried  away 
some  trestles  in  the  railway-bridge,  so  that  we  were  com- 
pelled to  return  to  Columbia.  When  we  arrived  there, 
old  Doctor  Reynolds  and  his  wife  opened  their  hospitable 
doors  to  us,  and  leaving  my  family  with  them,  I  returned 
to  Charleston.  Sadness  greeted  me.  General  Hardee, 
w^ho  was  in  command  (an  attendant,  by  the  by,  of  the 
services  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion),  sent  for 
me,  and  told  me  that  General  Sherman  *  had  left  Savan- 

*  When  General  Sherman  was  marching  through  South  Caro- 
lina, the  Federals  burned  many  buildings  in  Camden,  among  them 

152 


Burning  of  Columbia.  153 

nah,  and  was  moving  on  Columbia.  This  would  force 
the  evacuation  of  the  city.  He  added,  ' '  Unless  you  are 
prepared  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United  States 
government,  you  had  better  leave." 

As  I  had  been  too  pronounced  a  man  to  be  left  undis- 
turbed, I  told  him  that  I  would  take  that  oath  when  the 
flag  of  the  Confederacy  was  furled,  but  not  till  then. 
Charging  me  to  secrecy,  he  ordered  me  to  leave  ;  so,  on 
Sunday,  loth  February,  I  bade  the  congregation  farewell, 
telling  them  that  I  was  going  to  leave  the  city  for  some 
time,  and  the  church  would  be  closed  until  my  return. 
On  Tuesday,  I  left  by  the  Northeastern  Road  for  Florence, 
to  go  thence  to  Columbia,  for  the  bridge  on  the  Congaree 
had  been  washed  away.  I  took  with  me  the  sacramental 
vessels  of  the  church,  in  a  large  black  box,  and  we  reached 
Columbia  on  Wednesday  night.  I  had  placed  a  box  con- 
taining books  and  clothing,  sermons  and  valuable  papers, 
in  charge  of  a  friend,  Mr.  Wm.  Allston  Pringle  ;  but  in 
the  confusion,  he  lost  the  box.  I  never  saw  the  box  or 
books  again,  until  four  years  afterwards.  The  Sisters  of 
Mercy  sent  me  a  half-dozen  of  the  books,  which  had  been 
rescued  by  a  kind-hearted  Roman  Catholic  priest,  where, 
or  how,  I  have  never  learned.  The  sermons,  clothing,  and 
valuable  papers,  I  never  heard  of  again. 

I  wonder  if  any  of  General  Sherman's  men  read  the 

the  Protestant  Episcopal  Theological  Seminary.  Bishop  Davis 
wished  to  revive  the  same,  and  I  asked  Mr.  Welsman  to  donate  for 
that  purpose  a  building  in  Spartanburg,  which  had  been  built  for  a 
church  school  for  girls,  but  had  been  vacated  through  the  failure 
of  the  enterprise.  Mr.  Welsman  generously  consented.  The 
seminary  lasted  a  few  years,  but  the  diocese  was  too  poor  to  sus- 
tain it,  and  it  was  closed.  The  trustees  sold  it,  and  Converse  Col- 
lege, a  school  for  girls,  is  flourishing  there.  The  interest  is  donated 
to  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Sewanee,  University  of  the  South. 
If  I  had  not  asked  Mr.  Welsman  for  that  building,  Sewanee  would 
not  be  getting  that  I500  a  year. 


154  Led  On! 

sermons  !  They  were  some  of  my  best,  and  I  would  like 
very  much  to  get  hold  of  some  of  them  myself. 

Wednesday,  General  Sherman's  army  had  now  reached 
the  Congaree  River,  and  fighting  had  begun  below  the 
city.  Three  days  after  my  departure  from  Charleston,  a 
portion  of  this  army  was  distinctly  visible  on  the  heights 
outlined  against  the  sky. 

Shells  were  suddenly  thrown  into  the  city  of  Columbia 
without  warning,  and  as  I  was  one  day  walking  in  the 
street,  I  saw  a  shell  strike  the  corner  of  the  house  just  in 
front  of  me,  next  to  the  house  where  my  family  was  stay- 
ing. In  the  front  piazza  a  group  of  terrified  women  were 
standing.  There  is  still  a  gash  in  the  west  end  of  the 
State  House  made  by  one  of  those  shells. 

General  consternation  prevailed  in  that  city,  which  was 
filled  with  women  and  children,  refugees  from  the  coast. 
The  shelling  did  not  continue  for  any  length  of  time,  for, 
to  the  credit  of  General  Sherman  be  it  said,  as  soon  as  he 
learned  that  an  over-zealous  officer  was  shelling  Columbia 
without  orders  he  immediately  stopped  it.  Such  was  the 
report  at  the  time.  The  Confederate  General  Wheeler, 
with  his  cavalry,  then  in  Columbia,  was  in  full  force,  and 
one  of  his  captains  meeting  me,  asked  if  I  could  tell  him 
where  he  could  procure  a  pair  of  stockings.  I  went  im- 
mediately to  the  store  of  the  Ladies'  Relief  Association, 
where  Mr  Edwin  L.  Kerrison  was  in  charge,  who  told  me 
that  he  would  give  me  a  box  of  socks,  on  condition  that  I 
helped  him  move  some  of  the  wine  and  liquor  which  was 
there.  He  feared  the  soldiers  would  break  in  and  the 
consequences  might  be  serious.  Seeing  a  number,  I  think 
one  hundred  and  forty-four  cases  of  port  wine,  marked 
Ladies'  Relief  Association,  which  had  arrived  after  run- 
ning the  blockade,  I  agreed  to  Mr.  Kerrison' s  proposition. 
This  wine  would  be  of  service  to  the  sick.  I  then  went  in 
search  of  the  Captain,  and  giving  him  the  box  of  socks, 


Burning  of  Columbia.  155 

asked  him  for  a  squad  to  protect  me  in  carrying  this  wine 
through  the  streets,  which  he  did;  and  with  the  help  of 
Doctor  Reynolds's  waiting  man  and  a  truck,  I  safely  dis- 
posed of  one  truck  load  of  wine. 

I  then  went  about  the  city  endeavoring  to  reassure 
such  ladies  as  were  without  a  male  protector.  During  all 
these  hours  a  constant  firing  was  kept  up  above  and  below 
the  city  ;  in  the  midst  of  which,  at  night,  we  retired  to 
bed,  but  not  to  sleep — an  anxious,  careworn  people. 

The  city  of  Shushan  w^as  perplexed.  I  shall  record 
what  came  under  my  own  observation,  which  was  noted 
at  the  time  ;  1  trust  nothing  that  is  written  in  this  book 
will  stir  up  an  angry  feeling  in  a  single  heart.  My  life  is 
a  striking  illustration  of  God's  Providence,  and  nothing  is 
further  from  my  wish  or  intent  than  to  engender  strife. 

The  events  of  which  this  part  of  my  narrative  treats 
have  passed  into  history.  My  effort  ever  since  General 
Johnson  surrendered  has  been  to  make  peace  between  the 
people  of  the  North  and  the  South  ;  and  by  the  blessing 
of  God  on  my  humble  efforts,  I  have  been  the  means  of 
bringing  many  on  both  sides  to  a  better  understanding. 

During  the  shelling  of  the  city  on  Thursday,  the  i6th 
February,  a  large  quantity  of  cotton  was  brought  in  great 
haste  out  of  many  houses  and  yards,  from  both  sides  of 
Main  Street,  and  put  in  the  middle  of  the  wide  thorough- 
fare. This  cotton  had  been  stored  in  every  conceivable 
place,  and  when  the  shelling  began,  the  owners  became 
frightened,  lest  the  shells  should  set  the  bales  on  fire,  and 
they  hurriedly  brought  them  from  their  hiding-places. 
In  some  of  the  other  streets  immense  piles  were  heaped 
up.  I  remember  a  large  pile  in  front  of  Mr.  W.  F.  Des- 
saussure's  house.  But  the  cotton  in  Main  Street  was  in 
one  straight  line,  not  more  than  a  couple  of  bales  high, 
and  much  of  it  was  loose  cotton.  On  Friday  morning  the 
17th,  between  two  and  three  a.m.,  there  was  a  terrific  ex- 


156  Led  On! 


plosion,  which  shook  the  city  like  an  earthquake.  Hastily 
dressing  myself,  I  hastened  into  the  street  where  I  learned 
that  an  explosion  had  taken  place  at  the  depot  of  the  South 
Carolina  Railroad,  where  a  quantity  of  blockade  goods 
with  much  powder  and  fixed  ammunition  was  stored. 
In  the  general  demoralization  of  the  hour,  a  number  of 
persons  had  gone  there,  with  lighted  torches,  to  help 
themselves  to  goods,  which  they  knew  would  otherwise 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  By  accident  the  powder 
was  ignited,  the  depot  was  crowded,  and  many  lives  were 
lost. 

While  out  inquiring  about  the  explosion,  I  met  Gen. 
Wade  Hampton  and  staff,  in  front  of  Hunt's  Hotel.  The 
coming  day  was  just  lighting  up  the  eastern  horizon,  and 
I  said  to  General  Hampton,  *'  Do  you  propose  to  bum 
this  cotton?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  no  need  ;  for  General  Sherman 
will  not  stay  here.  He  has  indeed  marked  his  course  with 
desolation,  and  this  cotton  he  would  certainly  destroy  as 
he  is  destroying  all  the  railroads,  but  he  is  pushing  on  to 
General  Lee's  rear.  The  cotton,  if  saved,  will  be  some- 
thing for  our  poor  people  to  live  on  after  the  war. ' ' 

He  then  asked  me  to  go  to  the  Preston  mansion,  and 
take  my  family  there,  as  it  would  be  safer  with  someone 
in  it.  General  Hampton  also  advised  me  to  get  notes 
from  the  ladies  in  the  city  asking  protection,  as  he  thought 
they  would  need  it,  and  was  sure  it  would  be  given,  for 
the  city  was  now  evacuated.  I  bade  him  good-bye.  How 
handsome  he  looked  that  day,  as  he  sat  on  his  horse,  of 
which  he  seemed  to  be  a  part,  for  he  was  a  superb  rider  ! 
I  saw  him  with  his  staff  ride  out  of  the  city,  just  before 
the  sun  rose,  and  we  did  not  meet  again  until  the  flag  of 
the  Confederacy  had  been  furled  forever,  and  the  mighty 
contest,  with  all  its  heroic  deeds  and  unparalleled  suffer- 
ings, had  become  a  thing  of  the  past. 


Burning  of  Columbia,  157 

My  wife  declined  to  go  to  the  Preston  mansion,  so  I  went 
and  urged  the  old  servant  not  to  betray  the  hiding-place 
of  the  Preston  family  silver.  He  promised,  but  the  pres- 
sure was  too  much  for  him,  and  he  revealed  the  place  and 
all  the  silver  was  taken  away.  Soon  after  the  Federal 
soldiers  entered  Columbia. 

Following  General  Hampton's  suggestion,  I  went  over 
to  the  Presbyterian  Theological  Seminary,  where  I  saw 
Mr.  Daniel  E.  Huger,  and  many  ladies,  to  whom  I  gave 
the  General's  message.  Several  ladies  went  off  to  write 
the  notes  ;  many  I  had  already  from  others. 

While  I  was  waiting  for  the  notes,  I  heard  for  the  first 
time  in  four  years,  floating  on  the  morning  air,  the  tune 
of  **  Yankee  Doodle."  At  that  time  I  would  rather  have 
heard  the  awakening  notes  of  the  Angel  Gabriel's  trumpet. 
Hastily  gathering  as  many  notes  as  had  been  written,  I 
ran  to  the  Main  Street,  and  met  the  advancing  column  of 
the  incoming  enemy,  soon  after  they  entered  the  town. 
As  they  were  marching  down  the  street,  many  stragglers 
fell  out  of  the  ranks  ;  but  I  moved  on  among  them  unmo- 
lested, for  I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  put  on  my  cleri- 
cal clothes.  Very  soon  I  saw  with  great  apprehension 
many  persons,  white  and  colored,  rushing  out  of  stores 
and  houses  with  pitchers  and  buckets.  I  heard  this  was 
done  to  propitiate  the  thirsty  soldiers.  It  was  soon  evi- 
dent what  was  in  those  vessels,  for  many  of  the  soldiers 
became  intoxicated,  and  to  this  cause  we  owed  some  of 
the  horrors  that  followed. 

As  soon  as  the  column  halted  and  stacked  arms,  the 
weary  and  drunken  men  threw  themselves  on  the  cotton 
bales  in  the  middle  of  the  street.  Thinking  the  officer  in 
command  would  make  his  headquarters  at  the  State  House, 
which  stood  at  the  head  of  Main  Street,  I  went  there,  and 
found  a  perfect  orgie  in  progress.  Many  trophies  and 
mementoes  of  a  not  inglorious  past,  especially  of  the  War 


158  Led  On! 


of  18 1 2,  the  Florida  War,  and  the  Mexican  War,  battle- 
flags  and  swords,  etc. ,  were  in  the  possession  of  drunken 
soldiers,  and  were  being  pulled  to  pieces  and  tossed  about. 
Some  of  the  men  were  wrestling  and  boxing.  Altogether, 
the  scene  was  so  intensely  painful  and  mortifying,  that  I 
quickly  returned. 

Going  back  down  Main  Street,  I  found  Colonel  Stone, 
the  officer  in  command,  and  told  him  the  city  was  full  of 
unprotected  women  and  children,  and  appealed  to  him  as 
a  man  and  a  soldier  to  give  me  some  guards  for  them, 
calling  his  attention  to  the  drunken  state  of  his  men.  He 
courteously  directed  me  to  go  to  the  Market  House,  farther 
down  the  street,  where  I  could  find  his  Provost  Marshal. 
He  at  the  same  time  wrote  on  one  of  the  notes  orders  for 
as  many  guards  as  I  needed. 

On  my  way  to  the  Market  House  I  saw  the  first  bale  of 
cotton  take  fire.  The  soldiers  who  were  sitting  and  lying 
on  the  cotton  had  begun  to  light  their  pipes,  and  a  spark 
or  a  lighted  match  must  have  fallen  on  the  loose  cotton, 
which  of  course  took  fire.  I  was  within  twenty  feet  of 
the  first  cotton  fired  that  day.  The  flames  soon  spread, 
and  the  men,  cursing  those  who  had  deprived  them  of  their 
resting-place,  quickly  got  away  from  the  burning  piles. 

I  saw  General  Sherman  and  his  staff  ride  down  Main 
Street,  at  about  9  o'clock  a.m.,  and  when  he  came  in,  the 
burning  cotton  was  still  smouldering.  At  that  time  he 
was  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  the  fire,  and  naturally  sup- 
posed it  had  been  kindled  by  the  retreating  Confederates. 
I  met  him  that  afternoon  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Harris 
Simons.  He  had  been  intimate  with  the  family  in  past 
years  and  was  kind  and  considerate  in  his  general  bearing. 
He  seemed  to  deeply  deplore  the  terrible  condition  of 
things,  but  said  it  was  his  duty  as  a  soldier  to  stamp  out 
the  rebellion,  as  he  called  it,  hurt  whom  it  might.  He 
gave  a  special  personal  protection  in  writing  to  the  family, 


Burnmg  of  Columbia.  159 

but  notwithstandiug  this  they  were  robbed  and  burned  out 
that  night. 

On  leaving,  I  walked  some  distance  with  the  General, 
and  had  some  conversation  regarding  the  preservation  of 
the  library  of  the  College.  He  remarked  that  he  would 
sooner  send  us  a  library,  than  destroy  the  one  we  had  ; 
adding,  that  if  better  use  had  been  made  of  it,  this  state 
of  things  would  not  exist,  and  that  I  must  go  and  tell  the 
ladies  they  were  as  safe  as  if  he  were  a  hundred  miles  away. 
I  went  home  and  told  the  ladies  at  Dr.  Reynolds's  house, 
to  which  several  famihes  in  their  alarm  had  fled  for  refuge. 
It  was  about  half-past  eight  at  night,  when  I  told  the 
ladies  what  General  Sherman  had  said,  and  they  only 
replied,  ' '  Do  you  believe  him  ?  Go  on  the  roof  of  the 
house  and  see  for  yourself. ' ' 

A  Captain  of  the  Federal  army  had  billeted  himself  on 
us,  and  was  welcomed  by  us,  as  we  thought  he  could  pro- 
tect the  house.  This  officer  went  with  me  to  the  roof  of 
the  house,  and  we  there  saw  that  the  whole  of  Columbia 
was  surrounded  with  flames.  I  pointed  this  out  to  the 
Captain,  and  said  I  believed  they  were  going  to  burn 
Columbia. 

' '  No, ' '  he  said  ;  ' '  those  are  camp-fires. ' ' 

I  told  him  that  I  had  been  four  years  in  camp,  and 
thought  I  knew  what  a  camp-fire  was.  Then  I  pointed 
out  several  residences  on  fire,  the  owners  of  which  I  knew, 
namely,  Mr.  Trenholm,  General  Hampton,  Colonel  Wal- 
lace, and  a  number  of  others.  The  environs  of  the  town 
were  ablaze.  Then  a  fire  broke  out  in  Main  Street,  near 
Hunt's  Hotel,  caused  by  an  overturned  lamp  in  a  saloon, 
which  ignited  the  liquor,  and  as  the  flames  spread,  two  or 
three  small  hand-engines  were  brought  out  which  I  saw 
Federal  soldiers  work  on.  Suddenly  three  fire-balloons 
went  up,  and  in  ten  minutes  eight  fires  broke  out  simul- 
taneously across  the  northern  street  of  the  city,   about 


1 60  Led  On  ! 


equal  distance  from  each  other,    and  stretched  almost 
entirely  across  the  town. 

At  once  the  men  who  had  been  on  the  engines  a  mo- 
ment before  turned  in  and  broke  them  to  pieces.  I  saw 
this  from  the  roof  of  the  house. 

"  See  that  ?  "  I  said  to  the  Captain. 

He  gave  one  long  look,  then  darted  down  the  skylight, 
and  we  never  saw  him  again. 

A  gale  of  wind  was  blowing  from  the  north  that  night, 
and  that  soon  caused  the  fire  to  burn  freely,  so  that  in  a 
short  time  the  city  was  wrapped  in  a  lurid  sheet  of  flames. 
Coming  down  from  the  house,  I  told  the  family  that  their 
fears  had  become  realized. 

"  Columbia  is  being  burned  by  the  enemy." 

They  gathered  up  some  trifles,  prepared  themselves  for 
flight,  and  awaited  anxiously  the  progress  of  events. 

The  house  in  which  we  were  was  of  brick,  surrounded 
by  trees,  but  a  wooden  house,  that  of  Mr.  De  Trevilles, 
was  on  the  same  block,  with  a  brick  Baptist  church  in  the 
rear.  It  seemed  to  me  that  unless  the  house  itself  was 
fired  we  should  probably  be  safe. 

Going  into  the  street  I  there  beheld  a  scene  which,  while 
memory  lasts,  I  can  never  forget.  Streams  of  pale  women, 
leading  their  terrified  children,  with  here  and  there  an 
infant  in  arms,  went  by,  they  knew  not  whither,  amid  the 
fierce  flames.  They  hurried  on,  leaving  behind  them 
forever  their  burning  homes,  and  all  they  contained.  To 
their  everlasting  honor  be  it  said,  no  cry  escaped  their 
lips,  no  tears  rolled  down  their  cheeks.  Fearless  and 
undaunted,  they  moved  amid  the  surrounding  horrors, 
silent,  self-contained,  enduring.  In  silence,  the  pale  pro- 
cession passed  on.  When  the  history  of  heroic  women  is 
written,  let  not  those  Carolina  women  be  forgotten. 

The  streets  were  filled  with  soldiers  mounted  and  on 
foot,  in  every  stage  of  drunkenness.     The  whole  of  Gen- 


Burning  of  Columbia.  1 6 1 

eral  Howard's  Fifteenth  Corps,  we  learned,  had  been 
turned  loose  upon  us.  Shouts  of  derision  and  blasphemy 
filled  the  air.  Cries  of  * '  There  are  the  aristocrats ! ' ' 
' '  lyook  at  the  chivalry ! ' '  were  yelled  into  the  ears  of 
these  defenseless  women.  Men  seemed  to  have  lost  their 
manhood,  and  the  mere  beast  was  in  the  ascendant.  Be 
it  said,  however,  that  although  these  poor  women  were  in 
their  power,  there  is  no  recorded  instance  of  a  white  wo- 
man having  been  assaulted  or  outraged.  So  much  cannot 
be  said  about  the  colored  women,  who  were  not  so  well 
treated.  Amid  all  this  confusion  there  were  occasional 
explosions  of  ammunition  and  shells,  as  the  fire  reached 
their  place  of  storage.  The  bursting  of  barrels  of  liquor, 
the  falling  of  brick  walls,  the  howling  of  the  wind,  for  it 
was  blowing  a  gale,  and  the  swish  of  the  flames  leaping 
wildly  from  house  to  house  made  up  a  terrific  uproar.  I, 
myself,  saw  men  with  balls  of  cotton  dipped  in  turpentine 
enter  house  after  house.  Some  would  take  bottles  of 
turpentine,  throw  the  liquid  round  about,  and  then  set  it 
afire.  It  seemed  as  though  the  gates  of  Hell  had  opened 
upon  us.     It  did  not  take  long  to  fire  the  whole  town. 

Amid  the  accumulated  horrors  of  fire,  pillage,  a  drunken 
soldiery  clamoring,  with  ribald  insults,  the  awful  night 
wore  on  until  half-past  eleven  o'clock.  Then  it  was  that 
the  only  house  in  the  block  besides  Doctor  Reynolds's, 
being  in  the  very  next  lot,  was  fired  and  the  ladies  of  the 
household,  fearing  to  be  enveloped  in  the  flames,  insisted 
on  seeking  protection  at  General  Sherman's  headquarters. 
Our  flight,  therefore,  was  determined  upon.  My  first 
thought  was  to  take  the  silver  service  of  the  church  out 
of  the  box  to  which  it  belonged  ;  this  I  left  open  on  the 
floor  and  put  the  silver  in  an  open  box  under  my  bed, 
merely  throwing  a  cloth  over  it.  After  gathering  a  little 
clothing  for  the  children  in  a  blanket,  and  putting  our  in- 
fant Charles  in  the  arms  of  a  faithful  colored  nurse,  my 


IX 


1 62  Led  On  I 

wife,  Theodore,  and  Josephine,  my  adopted  daughter, 
Doctor  Reynolds,  his  wife  and  daughter,  and  his  wife's 
sister  left  the  house.  There  we  found  ourselves  in  the 
blazing  streets,  amid  an  infuriated  mob  of  men  called  sol- 
diers, and  at  once  joined  the  dreary  stream  of  refugees, 
whose  perils  and  uncertain  fate  we  were  compelled  to 
share.  Through  street  after  street  we  pushed  our  way 
until  we  had  reached  a  house  within  a  square  of  General 
Sherman's  quarters,  and  as  there  had  been  no  fire  set  to 
any  of  the  houses  near  the  ofiicers'  quarters,  we  determined 
to  stop  at  this  house.  The  people  to  whose  house  God's 
hand  had  thus  led  us,  received  us  well.  The  reader  will 
learn  what  remarkable  consequences  followed  upon  the 
chance  that  made  us  stop  at  that  house. 

Before  the  gate  of  Mr.  M lot's  house  there  were  hitched 
two  horses,  belonging  to  two  Federal  officers,  a  captain 
and  a  lieutenant.  As  soon  as  the  ladies  had  there  found 
a  place  of  safety.  Doctor  Reynolds  went  out  into  the  street 
again,  saying  he  would  go  back  to  his  house,  which  con- 
tained all  the  mementoes  of  his  life.  He  would  go  back 
and  see  the  last  of  them.  We  earnestly  entreated  him 
not  to  go,  and  one  of  the  officers  to  whom  the  horses  be- 
longed seeing  this  venerable,  gray-haired  man  in  the  street 
approached  us,  and  joined  in  the  request  that  Doctor  Rey- 
nolds would  not  venture  back,  as  he  might  be  insulted,  or 
ill-used,  by  some  of  the  drunken  soldiers.  The  Doctor, 
however,  insisted  upon  going,  and  the  young  officer  sol- 
(iier — he  was  about  twenty-eight  years  old — then  said,  "  I 
will  go  with  you  and  protect  you. ' '  The  two  left  us  about 
half-past  eleven  p.m.  Meanwhile  one  of  the  ladies  stood 
guard  at  the  back  gate,  while  I  stood  at  the  front  gate. 
The  hours  of  the  night  dragged  on,  and  although  soldiers 
came  repeatedly  to  the  house,  and  threatened  us  with 
many  ills,  they  did  not  molest  us  further. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IvlEUTKNANT  McQUKEN 

We  arrive  at  a  place  of  refuge — /  confront  General 
Sherman — At  my  expostulation  he  stops  pillage  and  de- 
bauchery— /  am  robbed  of  7ny  shawl — RestitutioJi  and 
repe7ita7ice — A  ?ioble  Ya?ikee — My  first  fiery  m,eeti7ig  with 
Lieute7tant  McQuee7i — /  apologize. 

IN  the  meantime  no  tidings  came  from  Doctor  Reynolds 
and  the  officer  who  had  gone  with  him.  Mrs.  Rey- 
nolds and  her  daughter,  as  time  passed,  became  almost 
frantic  with  anxiety  as  to  his  fate.  Added  to  the  horrors 
of  the  dreadful  night,  was  the  uncertainty  as  to  what  was 
to  come  next,  or  what  was  going  on  in  other  parts  of  the 
town.  The  fate  of  the  helpless  women  of  Columbia  pressed 
very  heavily  on  our  hearts,  and  the  few  men  who  were 
able  to  exchange  a  word  during  the  night,  had  given  each 
other  a  pledge  that  any  outrage  offered  to  a  woman,  should 
meet  with  the  instant  death  of  the  offending  party.  The 
certainty  that  such  an  act  of  vengeance  might  precipitate 
a  general  massacre,  the  dread  that  to  burning  and  pillage, 
outrage  and  bloodshed  were  possibly  to  be  added,  served 
to  make  that  night  a  period  of  inexpressible  agonies.  No 
language  can  convey  an  idea  of  the  actual  sufferings 
endured  by  our  citizens,  from  nightfall  till  dawn. 

But  suddenly  a  gleam  of  hope  appeared  in  our  little 

163 


1 64  Led  On  ! 

circle  in  Mr.  Miot's  house.  About  three  in  the  morning, 
the  officer  who  had  gone  with  Doctor  Reynolds  returned 
alone.  Doctor  Reynolds  had  told  him  my  name,  and  as 
he  came  up  to  me  at  the  gate,  he  said:  "  Mr.  Porter, 
Doctor  Reynolds  begs  you  to  bring  the  ladies  back,  for 
we  have  saved  the  house,  and  the  presence  of  the  ladies 
will  make  it  more  secure. ' ' 

I  frankly  confess,  I  did  not  believe  him.  I  could  not 
imagine  what  he  had  done  with  Doctor  Reynolds,  and  I 
thought  he  only  wished  to  lure  the  ladies  into  the  street, 
that  he  might  help  the  others  to  rob  them  of  the  few 
articles  thej^  had  saved.  I  accordingly  left  him  at  the 
door  to  ascertain  for  myself  the  condition  of  Doctor  Rey- 
nolds's house  before  returning  to  bring  the  ladies  out. 
The  reader  may  imagine  ni}^  indignation  when  turning 
into  the  street  which  I  thought  led  to  my  house,  I  saw  it 
in  flames.  I  was  standing  there  half-petrified  by  the  perfidy 
of  the  officer,  when  General  Sherman  came  by.  The  burn- 
ing city  made  it  bright  as  day  ;  the  General  recognized  me, 
and  I  said  in  reply  to  his  remark,  *  *  This  is  terrible, "  "  Yes, 
when  you  remember  that  women  and  children  are  your 
victims. ' ' 

I  was  desperate  and  had  lost  all  fear  of  him. 

*  *  Your  Governor  is  responsible  for  this, ' '  he  said. 

"  How  so?  "I  asked. 

He  said :  *  *  Whoever  heard  of  evacuating  a  place  and 
leaving  it  full  of  liquor  ?  My  men  are  drunk,  and  this  is 
the  cause  of  all.  Why  did  not  your  Governor  destroy  all 
this  liquor  before  he  left  ?  There  was  a  very  great  quan- 
tity of  whiskey  in  the  town  when  we  arrived. ' ' 

* '  The  drunken  men  have  done  much, ' '  I  replied  ;  ' '  but 
I  have  seen  sober  men  fire  house  after  house. ' ' 

Just  then  an  officer  rode  up,  and  saluted  the  General, 
who  recognized  him  and  said,  "  Captain  Andrews,  did  I 
not  order  you  that  this  should  stop  ? ' ' 


Lieutenant  McQueen.  165 

**  Yes,  General,  but  the  First  Division  are  as  drunk  as 
the  first  regiment  that  came  in  yesterday  morning. ' ' 

**  Then,  sir,  go,  and  bring  the  Second  Division  and 
have  this  stopped.  I  hold  you  personally  responsible  for 
the  immediate  cessation  of  this  riot." 

Captain  Andrews  rode  off.  The  Second  Division  from 
Stark  Hill,  General  Woods  commanding,  was  brought  in; 
the  drunken  mob  was  swept  by  them  out  of  the  city,  and 
in  less  than  half  an  hour,  not  another  house  was  burned. 
The  discipline  of  that  army  was  superb,  and  we  all  felt 
that  fire  and  disorder  could  have  been  prevented  or  sooner 
arrested,  for  thirteen  hundred  houses  were  burned  that 
night,  and  seven  thousand  women  and  children  driven 
into  the  streets  amidst  the  scenes  which,  as  an  eye-witness, 
I  have  described. 

The  General  passed  on,  and  I  turned  back  to  go  to  the 
ladies,  relieved  by  the  order  I  had  just  heard  given.  I  had 
wrapped  myself  in  a  shawl  purchased  in  Brussels  in  1856, 
which  I  had  used  in  Switzerland,  and  of  late  in  camp  on 
the  picket-line.  As  I  was  hastening  back,  I  was  met  by  a 
drunken  sergeant  and  two  privates,  and  as  they  ap- 
proached, the  drunken  man  seized  my  shawl,  saying, 
"What  is  a  rebel  doing  with  a  shawl?"  He  jerked 
me  towards  him,  and  drew  off,  and  struck  me  a  violent 
blow  on  the  left  temple.  The  attack  was  so  sudden, 
and  the  blow  so  severe,  that  for  a  moment  I  was  stag- 
gered, but  gathering  myself  up  I  began  to  tussle  for  the 
shawl.  The  privates  advised  me  to  desist,  as  the  man 
was  drunk,  and  they  could  not  answer  for  him  ;  he,  more- 
over, was  armed,  and  I  was  not.  Believing  that  discretion 
was  the  better  part  of  valor,  I  yielded,  and  the  man  wrapped 
the  shawl  around  him,  and  walked  off.  The  three  had 
not  gone  far,  when  another  Federal  soldier  who  had  just 
come  across  the  river,  and  had  not  been  in  the  riot,  came 
up  and  said,  **  Stranger,  I  saw  that  man  strike  you,  and 


1 66  Led  On  / 


steal  your  shawl  ;  it  is  an  outrage."  Dropping  his  gun 
from  his  shoulder,  he  continued:  ''  I  am  ashamed  this 
night  to  own  that  I  belong  to  this  army  ;  I  enlisted  to 
fight  and  to  preserve  this  Union  ;  I  did  not  come  to  free 
negroes,  or  to  burn  down  houses,  or  insult  women,  or 
strike  unarmed  men.  Stranger,  I  have  a  mother  and  two 
sisters, ' '  and  raising  his  right  arm  towards  Heaven  as  he 
leaned  upon  his  gun,  he  said,  "  Oh,  my  God,  what  would 
I  do  if  my  mother  and  sisters  were  in  such  a  plight  as 
these  poor  women  are  in  here  to-night.  Stranger,  if  I 
were  a  Southern  man  in  the  sight  of  this  burned  city,  I 
would  never  lay  down  my  arms,  while  I  had  an  arm  to 


raise. ' ' 


The  time,  the  surroundings,  the  words,  the  manner, 
added  to  his  words  a  certain  thrilling  eloquence.  I  looked 
at  the  man,  all  blackened  with  powder  and  smoke,  with 
profound  admiration  and  intense  surprise. 

I  told  the  speaker  for  the  sake  of  humanity,  I  was  glad 
to  meet  one  man  who  seemed  to  have  a  human  heart  in 
his  breast.  He  then  said,  "  Stranger,  if  you  will  hold 
my  blanket  and  knapsack,  I  will  get  that  shawl  for  you. ' ' 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  dropped  his  encum- 
brances at  my  feet,  and  with  fixed  bayonet,  started  in 
pursuit  of  the  sergeant  who  had  my  shawl.  A  few  paces 
off  he  met  a  comrade  whom  he  induced  to  join  him,  and 
the  two  men  overtook  the  three  men.  The  privates  left 
the  sergeant  in  the  hands  of  these  two  men,  who  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet,  brought  him  double-quick  back  to 
me,  and  my  friend  said,  ' '  Now  apologize  to  that  gentle- 
man for  striking  him,  and  give  him  back  his  shawl." 

The  sergeant  made  every  apology,  for  he  was  quite 
sobered  by  his  sudden  arrest.  He  confessed  that  the  devil 
iiad  taken  possession  of  him  this  night,  but  he  was  very 
sorry,  and  if  he  could  be  of  any  service,  he  would  stay  and 
protect  me. 


Lieutenant  McQueen,  167 


Thanking  the  true  nobleman  who  had  acted  so  grandly, 
I  recorded  his  name  in  a  pocket  Bible,  subsequently  stolen 
from  my  pocket  that  night.  By  that  step  I  lost  a  name  I 
would  give  much  to  recall.  It  would  afford  me  great  de- 
light to  meet  that  man  again.  I  think  his  name  was 
White  ;  I  have  an  impression  that  he  was  in  an  Iowa 
regiment. 

All  this  consumed  a  great  deal  more  time  than  it  has 
taken  me  to  tell  it,  and  when  I  got  back  I  found  the 
officer  I  left  there  waiting  at  the  gate,  very  impatient  at 
my  delay.  On  seeing  me  he  cried,  "  Where  have  you 
been  ?  I  have  taken  your  wife  and  children  home,  and 
your  wife  is  miserable  about  you." 

' '  What, ' '  I  said  ;  ' '  you  have  taken  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren back  to  that  burning  house  ?  ' ' 

He  simply  said:  ''The  house  is  saved;  your  wife's 
hand  was,  indeed,  slightly  burned  by  a  falUng  spark,  and 
your  little  daughter  fainted  in  getting  back,  but  they  are 
now  safe,  and  Mrs.  Porter  is  almost  distracted  about  you." 

Had  I  not  seen  the  house  in  flames  ?  and  yet  this  man 
coolly  tells  me  this  tale.  He  had  taken  all  that  was 
dearest  to  me  somewhere,  I  knew  not  where,  and  I  re- 
solved that  if  there  had  been  foul  play  the  life  of  one  of  us 
was  near  its  end,  and  I  determined  mine  should  not  go 

first. 

No  doubt  someone  reading  this  will  think.  How  shock- 
ing for  a  Christian  minister  !  Yes,  to  you  it  may  seem 
so  ;  but  to  read  of  it,  and  to  be  one  of  the  actors  are  very 
different  things.  Yes,  reader,  war,  and  all  its  concomi- 
tants, are  sinful,  deviHsh  ;  war  is  begotten  of  Satan,  and 
born  in  Hell  ;  there  is  nothing  good  about  it;  but  before 
you  condemn  you  must  be  placed  in  the  same  circum- 
stances (which  Heaven  forbid),  and  then  you  can  under- 
stand my  feeUngs.  I  said  to  him,  "  Go  on,  and  take  me 
where  you  have  taken  my  family." 


1 68  Led  On  I 


We  passed  through  the  street  in  which  the  scene  I 
have  described  took  place,  turned  down  the  next  street, 
and  there  stood  Doctor  Reynolds's  house,  evidently  un- 
harmed. This,  with  a  Baptist  church,  was  the  only  build- 
ing unburned  for  some  ten  blocks  around.  I  saw  I  had 
done  the  soldier  a  great  wrong.  The  revulsion  of  feeling 
was  quick  and  violent.  Extending  my  hand,  I  said: 
"  Lieutenant,  I  have  judged  you  unfairly  ;  I  ask  of  God 
and  you  pardon.  I  thought  you  were  a  villain,  and  now 
I  find  I  am  under  great  obligations  to  you." 

He  took  my  hand,  and  shook  it  warmly.  "  Pardon 
you,  certainly.  I  knew  by  your  countenance  what  you 
felt,  and  it  is  perfectly  natural,  after  this  night's  experi- 
ence. I  do  not  wonder  you  have  the  worst  opinion  of 
every  member  of  this  army  ;  but  we  are  not  all  alike. 
There  are  some  gentlemen  and  Christians  among  them 
yet ;  God  help  them  if  it  were  not  so  !  Such  a  mob  as  this 
has  been  would  be  swallowed  up  by  your  army  in  a  few 
days." 

He  then  told  me  that  his  name  was  Lieut.  John  A. 
McQueen,  of  Company  F,  15th  Illinois  Cavalry,  of  Gen. 
O.  O.  Howard's  escort,  and  his  home  was  Elgin,  Kane 
County,  Illinois.  It  was  God's  Providence  that  brought 
us  together,  for  much  that  this  biography  will  relate  has 
been  the  result  of  the  fact  that  this  young  man  went  home 
with  Doctor  Reynolds  that  night. 

I  found  the  ladies  and  children  all  safe  in  Doctor  Rey- 
nolds's parlor.  They  gave  me  glowing  accounts  of  the 
gentle  tenderness  of  Lieutenant  McQueen,  and  of  the 
protection  he  had  been  to  them.  Doctor  Reynolds  told, 
how,  when  he  returned  to  his  house  he  had  found  it  a 
pandemonium.  It  was  filled  with  soldiers,  and  they  had 
broken  open  drawers,  and  boxes,  and  trunks,  and  had 
scattered  the  contents  everywhere.  The  box  in  which 
the  church  plate  belonged  was  smashed,  but  the  common 


I 


Lieutenant  McQueen.  169 

box  under  the  bed,  in  which  I  had  put  the  silver,  and 
covered  it  over  with  a  towel,  had  escaped  notice  ;  the 
boldness  of  the  ruse  had  thrown  the  robbers  off  their 
guard,  and  so  the  silver  service  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Communion,  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  was  preserv^ed. 
When  Ivieutenant  McQueen  entered  the  house,  he  ordered 
every  man  out,  and  as  he  was  an  officer  they  obeyed.  He 
placed  a  sentinel  in  the  front  and  rear,  and  stationed 
soldiers  on  the  roof.  He  proceeded  to  form  a  line  of  our 
servants  from  the  well  to  the  house,  and  passed  buckets 
of  water  to  the  roof.  Being  a  brick  house,  and  surrounded 
as  it  was  by  trees  it  could  not  take  fire  excepting  from 
the  shingled  roof,  or  from  the  inside. 

The  fire  having  swept  past  the  block,  and  the  house 
now  being  under  guard,  Ivieutenant  McQueen  had  con- 
sidered it  safe,  and  had  returned  to  the  house  in  which  we 
had  taken  refuge,  for  the  ladies  and  myself,  as  I  have  re- 
lated. Several  parties  who  had  been  burned  out  took 
refuge  with  us  and  the  ladies  being  much  exhausted,  I 
opened  a  box  of  the  wine  I  had  saved,  and  the}^  found  it 
very  beneficial.  The  next  day  I  gave  a  box  to  Miss 
Reynolds  to  distribute  among  the  many  sick  ladies  in  the 
city.  One  box  I  gave  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Shand  for  Sacra- 
mental purposes,  and  had  it  not  been  saved,  the  Holy 
Communion  could  not  have  been  administered  for  months, 
for  there  was  not  another  bottle  of  wine  in  Columbia.  The 
remainder  I  turned  over  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jenkins  and  to 
Doctor  Raoul,  and  distributed  some  to  the  sick  soldiers  in 
the  hospital. 

The  week  after  this  a  certain  lady  came  to  me,  and  de- 
manded the  wine.  I  told  her  all  of  it  was  inaccessible, 
except  the  box  of  wine  that  Doctor  Shand  had,  and  she 
said  that  it  was  her  wine.  I  said,  ' '  Madam,  it  was  marked 
Ladies'  Relief  Association,  and  I  did  not  know  that  you 
constit uted  that  body . "    I  told  her  that  there  were  1 44  cases 


1 70  Led  071  / 


of  it,  and  she  had  better  look  up  the  138  boxes  that  I  had 
failed  to  save.  She  was  very  indignant,  but  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done.  I  did  not  recognize  her  as  the  Ladies' 
Relief  Association.  I  had  saved  the  wine,  and  had  given 
it  all  away  to  the  best  objects.* 

After  seeing  my  family  safe,  I  went  out  to  help  others. 
I  went  to  the  home  of  Mr.  G.  M.  Coffin,  an  old  friend  of 
mine,  and  with  the  assistance  of  some  negroes  moved  all 
his  furniture  into  the  large  lot  behind  Doctor  Reynolds's 
house.  I  then  sat  down  by  it  to  watch,  and  from  sheer 
exhaustion  fell  asleep.  The  sun  was  high  when  I  awoke, 
and  every  piece  of  furniture  was  gone.  I  have  no  doubt 
the  very  people  who  helped  me  to  move  it  took  it  while  I 
slept.  It  was  during  that  sleep  the  Bible  with  the  soldier's 
name  who  had  given  me  back  my  shawl  was  taken  from 
my  pocket. 

Saturday  beamed  upon  us  in  all  the  beauty  of  a  clear 
winter's  day,  but  the  sun  shone  down  on  a  blackened, 
desolated  city,  and  a  broken-hearted  people.  On  Sunday 
the  Rev.  Robert  Wilson,  son-in-law  of  Doctor  Shand, 
preached  an  eloquent  sermon,  and  a  large  number 
gathered  at  the  table  of  the  Lord.  It  was  a  solemn  hour. 
What  searchings  of  heart  there  must  have  been  !  For 
after  all  we  had  endured  at  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  we 
still  could  go  to  this  feast  of  love,  where  all  wrath  and 
bitterness  must  be  left  behind.  We  thanked  God  that  so 
many  could  go  to  that  feast,  and  sobs  were  heard  from 
many  of  the  women,  and  tears  ran  down  the  cheeks  of  the 

*  Years  after  this  I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Stevens,  then  a 
clergyman  of  the  Church,  the  same  who  commanded  the  Citadel 
Guard,  who  had  fired  on  the  Star  of  the  West  at  the  beginning  of 
the  war,  asking  me  to  tell  him  about  some  wine  I  had  in  Columbia, 
for  this  good  woman  was  circulating  astounding  stories  as  to  Dr. 
Shand  and  myself  stealing  some  wine  from  her.  I  wrote  to  him 
the  account,  and  he  put  the  slander  to  death. 


Lieutenant  McQueen. 


171 


men.  Reader,  you  would  have  to  be  placed  in  like  con- 
dition with  us,  to  understand  the  full  meaning  of  the  first 
Communion  after  that  dreadful  night.  The  record  of  that 
hour  is  on  high,  and  I  trust  faith  and  love  have  been 
accounted  of  God  for  righteousness  to  the  little  band,  who, 
with  failing  hearts,  but  trustful,  still  went  to  their  Mas- 
ter's board  and  said,  "  Thou  hast  stricken  us,  but  we  will 
not  believe  Thou  hast  forsaken  us." 


CHAPTER  XIX 


mcquekn's  escape 

We  bid  farewell  to  Lieutenant  McQueen — I  provide  him  with 
a  letter  which  aftej'wai^ds  saves  him  from  Souther?i  bullets 
— Hearing  of  his  further  peril  I  hurry  to  his  assistance — 
He  is  finally  restored  to  the  army  of  General  Sherman — 
Story  of  7ny  adventu7'es. 

MONDAY,  2otli  of  February,  1865,  was  another  day 
of  balmy  beauty  such  as  often  occurs  at  midwinter 
in  the  South.  But  we  were  spent  and  utterl}^  exhausted. 
The  reaction  of  panic  and  sorrow  had  set  in,  nor  did  we 
know  what  trials  yet  awaited  us,  for  the  Federal  army 
was  still  in  the  city,  and  the  awfulness  of  our  condition, 
and  the  desolation  which  was  all  around  us,  began  to  be 
realized.  All  hearts  were  sad,  and  despair  was  visible  in 
every  face.  Suddenly,  about  noon,  there  was  a  stir  among 
the  soldiers,  and  regiment  after  regiment,  and  train  after 
train,  passed  rapidly  through  the  streets.  General  Sher- 
man had  received  tidings  of  the  evacuation  of  Charleston, 
and  he  started  to  intercept  General  Hardee  and  the  Con- 
federate forces.  It  was  not  long  before  the  unwelcome 
host  was  gone. 

And  here  begins  a  new  chapter  in  my  experiences. 

On  the  day  General  Sherman  left  Columbia,  I^ieutenant 

172 


McQueen  s  Escape.  1 73 

McQueen  lingered  until  near  four  o'clock,  fearing  some 
stragglers  might  harm  us.  We  at  last  became  uneasy  for 
his  safety,  for  his  army  had  gone  some  time,  and  I  feared 
that  he  would  be  shot  if  our  scouts  met  him  alone.  At 
length  I  said  to  him,  ' '  There  are  men  enough  here  to  hold 
you  as  prisoner,  but  I  pledge  you  my  life  to  see  you  safely 
returned  to  your  Hues. ' '  I  could  not  counsel  him  to  accept 
me  as  a  companion,  as  my  presence  with  him  might  give 
him  trouble  hereafter.  He,  of  course,  would  not  entertain 
the  thought  of  taking  me  with  him,  and  as  he  was  entirely 
in  our  power,  the  temptation  to  hold  him  for  the  sake  of 
saving  him  from  danger  was  very  great. 

In  spite  of  these  considerations,  all  of  us,  at  about  five 
P.M.,  with  an  amount  of  emotion  that  can  easily  be  imag- 
ined, gathered  around  this  young  man  to  bid  him  good-bye. 
He  had  come  among  us  as  an  enemy,  and  was  leaving  us  as 
a  brother  beloved.  General  Hampton,  with  two  hundred 
thousand  men,  around  us,  could  not  more  effectually  have 
protected  us  than  he  had  done.  As  he  mounted  his  horse, 
I  begged  him  to  stop  a  moment,  and  running  into  the 
house,  I  asked  my  wife,  if  she  had  not  some  token  of  re- 
membrance she  could  give  McQueen.  She  handed  me  the 
gold  pencil-case  from  her  chain.  This  I  took  to  him,  tell- 
ing him  Mrs.  Porter  had  sent  it  to  him.  He  held  it  in  his 
hand  for  a  moment  and  said:  "  Did  Mrs.  Porter  give  me 
this  ?  Tell  her  I  thank  her,  and  will  never  forget  her, 
but — ' '  handing  it  back,  * '  Tell  her  I  never  could  persuade 
anyone  that  a  Southern  woman  gave  me  a  gold  pencil-case 
in  Columbia.  I  would  not  have  a  piece  of  j  ewelry  from  this 
city  for  any  amount  of  money.  I  never  could  convince 
anyone  I  had  not  stolen  it." 

This  suggested  another  thought.  I  begged  him  still  to 
wait,  and  running  into  the  house,  I  hastily  wrote  a  letter 
to  General  Hampton  or  any  other  Confederate  into  whose 
hands  he  might  fall.     This  I  gave  to  McQueen,  and  I 


1 74  Led  On  ! 


said :  *  *  Keep  this  with  you  ;  it  may  be  of  service.  Use  it 
in  any  emergency  which  in  the  changes  and  chances  of 
war  may  come. ' ' 

I  knew  the  woods  would  be  filled  with  Confederate 
scouts,  and  that  his  life  was  in  danger,  so  long  as  he  was 
alone  and  without  escort.  I  charged  him,  if  he  went  to 
Camden,  to  show  kindness  to  our  blind  Bishop  Davis,  and 
to  his  family,  and  to  do  his  best  to  stop  this  barbarous 
style  of  warfare.  He  promised  me  that  he  would,  and 
nobly  did  he  redeem  his  promise.  Commending  him  to 
God,  I  parted  from  him,  neither  of  us  expecting  ever  to 
meet  again. 

No  time  was  now  to  be  lost  for  self-defence  in  Columbia, 
for  we  were  like  a  wrecked  crew  in  a  dismantled  ship. 
General  Sherman,  at  the  request  of  the  mayor  of  the  city, 
had  left  us  some  muskets  for  our  protection.  We  found, 
however,  that  not  one  could  be  fired.  He  also  left  us 
some  cattle,  such  as  only  starving  people  would  eat. 
That  night  we  barricaded  our  houses,  and  drew  out  guns 
from  places  where  they  had  been  secreted,  and  organized 
the  few  men  into  a  home  guard.  On  the  following  day, 
the  committee  of  gentlemen  who  had  undertaken  to  man- 
age affairs,  persuaded  all  to  make  a  joint  stock  of  their 
provisions.  We  had  all  things  in  common,  and  agreed 
to  take  rations  for  each  day.  I  think  the  most  trying 
thing  I  ever  did,  was  to  go  with  Mr.  Alfred  Huger  and 
Mr.  Daniel  K.  Huger  and  others  of  that  stamp  of  gentle- 
men, and  stand  for  hours  in  the  crowd  of  women  and 
children,  white  and  black,  until  our  turn  came  to  get  a 
few  quarts  of  cornmeal,  and  a  small  piece  of  bacon.  This 
we  did  for  example's  sake,  and  it  had  the  happiest  effect, 
for  the  population  of  the  poor  were  thus  cared  for. 
This  was  a  matter  of  some  difiiculty,  until  we  could 
send  out  beyond  the  belt  of  forty  miles  around  us, 
which  General  Sherman  had  made  a  desolate  waste,  and 


McQueen  s  Escape.  1 75 

draw  provisions  from  these  sections  that  had  escaped  the 
invader. 

A  month,  to  the  day,  passed  before  I  could  get  any  con- 
veyance to  take  my  family  out  of  Columbia.  At  length, 
Mr.  E.  ly.  Kerrison,  who  by  great  forethought  had  sent 
his  carriage  and  horses  beyond  the  reach  of  the  enemy, 
lent  his  conveyance  to  us  and  we  were  able  to  leave  on 
the  17th  of  March.  In  all  the  past  month  we  had  heard 
rumors  that  Winnsborough  and  Camden  had  been  par- 
tially destroyed,  and  that  the  Federal  army  had  left  the 
State  at  Cheraw.  Mr.  John  Cheeseborough  and  his  family 
were  with  us  in  our  flight.  We  camped  out  the  first  night, 
and  reached  Newberry  the  next  day.  There  we  found  the 
railroad  intact,  and  next  day  went  by  the  cars  to  Ander- 
son. On  the  way  going  up  at  Hodges  Station  I  met  Mr. 
Wyatt  Aiken,  afterwards  Congressman,  who  told  me  he 
had  just  returned  from  Darlington,  where  he  had  been 
looking  for  the  body  of  his  brother  Hugh,  then  a  Colonel, 
the  same  who  had  played  Claude  Melnotte  to  my  Pauline, 
years  before  in  Winnsborough.  Hugh  Aiken  had  been 
killed  in  a  skirmish  near  Darlington,  ten  days  after  the 
burning  of  Columbia,  and  his  brother  added:  **  Your  friend 
McQueen  was  wounded  in  the  same  fight,  and  would  have 
been  killed  but  for  a  letter  from  you,  which  saved  his  life. 
He  drew  this  letter  from  his  breast  pocket,  saying  it  was 
from  the  Rev.  A.  Toomer  Porter,  of  Charleston.  Fortu- 
nately it  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  soldier,  who  knew  you, 
and  after  reading  the  letter,  the  Confederate  said,  '  You 
must  be  an  uncommon  Yank,  to  have  such  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Porter,  and  I  will  take  care  of  you. '  "  * 

Mr.  Aiken  added :  ' '  There  are  plenty  of  men  who,  in- 
stead of  facing  the  enemy,  stay  behind.     The  brave  heroes 

*  Our  army  was  so  outraged  after  the  burning  of  Columbia, 
Winnsborough,  and  Camden,  that  they  did  not  take  any  pris- 
oners alive.     War,  diaboUcal  war  ! 


I  76  Led  On  I 


of  the  rear,  think  your  letter  a  forgery,  and  McQueen  an 
impostor.  They  have  threatened  to  take  him  from  the 
farmhouse  where  he  was  carried,  and  hang  him,  notwith- 
standing your  letter. ' ' 

I  thanked  him  for  his  information,  and  at  once  deter- 
mined on  my  course  of  action.  On  telling  my  wife  the 
circumstances,  we  both  agreed  that  it  was  my  duty  to  go 
and  see  what  I  could  do  for  the  prisoner.  When  we 
reached  Anderson,  I  made  all  arrangements  for  the  family, 
for  Confederate  money  was  still  available,  and  we  had  a 
supply  of  that.  I  felt  the  family  was  secure,  so  the  next 
day,  strapping  my  historic  shawl  on  my  back,  with  some 
underwear,  I  took  the  train  for  Newberry,  and  started  to 
look  for  McQueen.  Where  he  was  I  had  not  the  slightest 
idea,  but  if  he  was  in  Darlington  district — though  the 
district  is  as  large  as  Rhode  Island  almost — I  determined 
to  find  him,  if  above  ground.  If  under  it,  I  would  find 
out  who  had  put  him  there. 

At  Newberry  I  left  the  train,  for  there  the  road  stopped, 
having  been  destroj^ed  between  that  place  and  Columbia 
by  the  December  freshet,  and  by  the  Federals.  It  took  me 
two  days  to  walk  to  Columbia,  both  days  in  the  hardest 
rain  I  have  ever  been  in,  and  that  without  an  umbrella. 
At  Columbia  I  stopped  in  an  old  mill,  on  the  outskirts, 
made  a  fire  and  dried  my  drenched  clothes.  Next  day  I 
succeeded  in  getting  a  seat  in  a  wagon,  with  no  springs, 
the  extemporized  body  being  placed  directly  on  the  axles. 
The  old,  lame  mule  pulled  six  of  us  thirty  miles  to  Cam- 
den, and  I  paid  fifty  dollars  in  Confederate  money  for  the 
ride  ;  there  was  no  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty 
to  Animals  down  there.  When  I  reached  Camden,  I  began 
my  inquiries  about  McQueen.  Something  induced  me  to 
go  to  the  old  Lord  Cornwallis  house,  which  was  used  for 
a  hospital.  Going  first  into  one  room,  then  into  another, 
I  finally  opened  a  door  without  the  slightest  idea  who  was 


McQueen  s  Escape,  177 

in  the  room.  There  were  about  a  dozen  Confederate  sick 
and  wounded  lying  on  the  floor  ;  but  my  eye  caught  that 
of  one  dressed  in  blue.  He  suddenly  rose  from  one  of  the 
beds,  and  turning  to  me,  he  raised  his  arms  and  exclaimed, 
'  *  Thank  God,  home  again. ' '  Seeing  who  it  was,  and  that 
he  was  about  to  fall,  I  sprang  over  the  beds,  and  caught 
lyieutenant  McQueen  in  my  arms.  Laying  his  head  on 
my  shoulder,  for  a  little  while  he  sobbed,  and  I  confess 
the  tears  were  running  down  my  cheeks  at  the  same  time. 
The  scene  created  a  sensation.  Here  was  a  Confederate 
in  captain's  uniform  and  a  Federal  lieutenant  clasped  in 
each  other's  arms,  and  weeping.  The  soldiers  looked  on 
amazed. 

"  Wait,  men,  until  I  tell  you  this  man's  story,  and  you 
will  weep,  too." 

And  they  did  wait,  and  when  they  heard  it,  McQueen 
became  a  hero  at  once. 

I  soon  learned  from  him  that  he,  with  a  squad,  was  out  on 
a  scouting  party  forty  miles  to  the  right  of  his  army,  after 
dark.  They  were  attacked,  and  thinking  they  were  being 
pursued,  they  retreated.  The  Confederates,  on  their  part, 
thought  they  had  fallen  into  an  ambush  and  fled.  In  the 
skirmish  two  Federals  were  killed,  and  two  wounded. 
McQueen  was  one  of  these  latter.  Among  the  Confeder- 
ate casualties,  Colonel  Aiken  was  killed.  The  Confeder- 
ates, on  cautiously  returning  and  finding  McQueen,  one 
of  them  had  drawn  his  pistol  to  shoot,  when  McQueen 
held  up  my  letter,  and  it  saved  his  life.  A  litter  was 
made  for  him,  and  he  was  taken  to  the  home  of  Mr. 
Postell,  who  had  lost  his  arm  at  Petersburg.  He  was  a 
private  in  the  company  of  Capt.  Thomas  Ford,  an  adopted 
son  of  mine,  who  had  often  mentioned  my  name  in  the 
hearing  of  Postell.  Postell  said  that  although  he  did  not 
know  me,  still  for  his  Captain's  sake,  he  would  take  care 
of  McQueen.      Finding,  however,  that  his  life  was  in 


la 


178  Led  On! 

danger  from  harboring  a  Federal  soldier,  Postell  had 
brought  McQueen  by  night  to  Camden,  only  a  week  be- 
fore I  arrived  there,  and  had  placed  him  here  under  the 
Confederate  authorities.  McQueen  had  been  shot  in  the 
groin  about  ten  days  after  the  burning  of  Columbia,  a 
month  before  I  found  him. 

The  delight  of  McQueen,  when  he  saw  me,  cannot  well 
be  described  ;  he  said  home  was  at  once  before  him.  He 
now  felt  sure  of  safety.  How  he  could  get  there  he  did 
not  know,  but  he  felt  sure  he  would  soon  be  home.  I 
went  into  the  town  and  found  that  he  had  protected  the 
Bishop's  family,  and  many  others,  and  had  saved  every 
house  that  had  not  been  burned  between  Columbia  and 
Camden.  When  I  told  the  people  that  he  was  in  the  hos- 
pital, wounded,  and  a  prisoner,  all  who  had  received 
kindness  from  him,  visited  him,  and  loaded  him  with 
attention.  The  blind  Bishop  went  to  him  and  laid  his 
hands  on  his  head  and  blessed  him.  Finding  that  he  was 
sufficiently  recovered  to  travel,  and  there  being  only  a 
surgeon  and  a  quartermaster  representing  the  Confederate 
government  in  Camden,  I  obtained  leave  of  the  surgeon 
to  take  charge  of  McQueen,  while  he  held  me  responsible 
for  any  damage  that  might  occur  from  his  giving  me  the 
prisoner.  The  quartermaster  gave  me  an  old  lame  mule, 
and  Mr.  De  Saussure  loaned  me  an  old  buggy.  The  young 
ladies  made  up  some  biscuits,  and  fried  some  chickens  ; 
Mr.  W.  C.  Courtney  gave  him  a  suit  of  citizen's  clothes, 
and  Bishop  Davis  his  linen  duster.  We  put  his  uniform 
in  a  bag  under  the  seat,  and  he  put  on  the  citizen  suit. 
I  placed  my  wounded  friend  in  the  buggy,  and  walked 
alongside,  driving  the  mule.  Thus  we  travelled  sixty- 
four  miles  in  two  days  to  Chester.  At  night  we  lodged 
with  farmers.  As  we  passed  through  the  country  lately 
traversed  by  General  Sherman's  army,  the  people  who 
were  poor,  distressed,  and  stripped  of  their  provisions, 


McQueen  s  Escape.  1 79 

took  us  in.  I  used  to  tell  them  about  the  burning  of 
Columbia,  and  how  one  of  the  Federal  officers  had  proved 
himself  a  Christian  indeed  ;  and  when  they  expressed  a 
wish  to  meet  such  a  man,  I  would  introduce  my  com- 
panion, and  then  McQueen  received  the  best  they  had. 
He  remarked  that  he  never  met  such  a  forgiving,  benevo- 
lent people. 

When  we  reached  Chester,  I  gave  the  mule  and  buggy 
in  charge  to  an  acquaintance  and  never  heard  of  them 
again.  We  entered  the  train,  when  I  fortunately  met 
Colonel  Colquitt,*  whom  I  had  known  in  Charleston.  I 
told  my  story,  and  asked  and  gained  his  protection,  which 
was  necessary,  for  I  had  nothing  to  show  for  my  having 
this  ' '  Yank  ' '  in  charge.  Though  of  course  he  wore  no 
uniform,  McQueen's  speech  betra3^ed  him  all  the  while, 
and  I  therefore  advised  him  to  be  silent.  It  was  a  risky 
business  to  undertake  at  such  a  time,  for  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  soldiers  incensed  and  infuriated  by  the  march 
through  Georgia,  and  the  desolation  of  South  Carolina. 
As  I  think  of  it,  thirty-two  years  after,  I  wonder  how  I 
dared  to  do  it,  and  how  we  escaped  without  one  unpleasant 
incident.  But  I  was  aiming  to  reach  Richmond.  I  knew 
Mr.  Davis,  the  President,  and  Mr.  George  A.  Trenholm, 
one  of  my  vestry  at  home,  was  in  the  Confederate  Cabinet 
as  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  and  I  felt  certain  that  with 
his  aid  I  could  send  McQueen  through  the  lines. 

Before  we  reached  Salisbury,  mingled  rumors  of  disaster 
and  success  came  floating  around  us,  no  one  knew  how  or 
whence,  for  we  had  no  telegraph.  When  we  reached 
Green sborough,  the  rumors  gained  substance.  We  found 
we  could  get  no  farther,  so  with  the  aid  of  Colonel  Col- 
quitt's permit,  I  turned  to  Raleigh,  thinking  to  see  General 
Johnston  there,  and  proceed  on  to  Smithville.     But  the 

*  Afterwards  Governor  of  Georgia  and  United  States  Senator. 


1 80  Led  On  I 


battle  of  Benton ville  had  just  been  fought,  and  when  I 
met  General  Hardee,  at  the  station,  he  bade  me  stay  there 
with  McQueen,  until  he  could  see  General  Johnston,  for 
Sherman  was  advancing,  and  Johnston  was  retreating.  I 
was  advised  by  Hardee  on  his  return  from  Johnston  to  take 
McQueen  back  to  Raleigh,  and  await  General  Johnston 
there. 

We  went  back,  and  I  took  McQueen  to  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Mason's  house,  where,  after  they  had  learned  his  story, 
the  best  they  had  was  at  the  disposal  of  my  companion. 
I  called  on  General  Johnston  the  next  day,  at  Mr.  Rufus 
Tucker's  house.  He  had  been  told  by  General  Hardee 
of  McQueen's  noble  conduct,  and  he  at  once  sent  his 
Provost  Marshal  to  Doctor  Mason's  house  with  a  permit 
for  McQueen  to  pass  over  to  General  Sherman  without 
exchange.  He  told  me  if  my  friend  would  remain  quiet 
in  the  place  where  he  was,  he  would  be  in  the  Federal 
camp,  as  the  Confederates  were  in  retreat.  I  went  there, 
and  bade  McQueen  good-bye.  The  scene  of  our  parting 
I  pass  over  ;  I  doubt  if  either  of  us  has  ever  forgotten  it. 


CHAPTER  XX 


THE    LAST   CHAPTER   OF  THE  WAR 


A  touching  story  of  General  Johnston  —  The  last  scenes  of  the 
war — My  blank  despair — My  wife's  distress  over  my  dejec- 
tion— I  read  the  providential  workiiig  of  God  i7i  history — 
Light  through  the  clouds — /  resolve  to  do  my  best  for  home 
and  cou7itry. 

I  HAD  now  travelled  over  seven  hundred  miles,  by  rail, 
on  foot,  in  a  wagon  without  springs,  in  a  buggy, 
amidst  many  dangers,  to  set  McQueen  free.  I  would  have 
travelled  seven  thousand  to  show  my  gratitude  to  that 
gallant  man. 

McQueen's  safety  being  assured,  my  own  movements 
now  occupied  me.  General  Johnston  asked  me  what  I 
was  going  to  do,  and  I  frankly  told  him  I  was  puzzled  as 
to  my  next  step.  General  Johnston  then  placed  me  on  his 
staff,  and  gave  me  a  horse,  granting  me  authority  to  do 
what  I  could  to  help  the  soldiers.  Of  this  great  soldier  I 
must  tell  the  following  : 

Once,  while  waiting  for  dinner  in  the  anteroom  of  Mr. 
Tucker's  house,  where  General  Johnston,  General  Hardee, 
and  myself  were  the  only  three  present,  I  told  General 
Johnston  that  all  South  Carolina  felt  his  removal  from 
command  at  Atlanta.  The  General  answered  that  my 
partiality  had  gotten  the  better  of  my  judgment. 

i8i 


1 82  Led  On  I 

"  No,"  I  insisted,  "  a  black  pall  fell  over  the  State 
when  you  were  relieved  ;  we  all  felt  that  General  Sherman 
would  never  have  reached  Columbia  if  Johnston  had  not 
been  removed  from  Atlanta." 

The  gallant  soldier  rose,  and  walking  hurriedly  back 
and  forth  in  the  small  room,  said :  ' '  Since  you  have  said 
so  much,  I  will  tell  you.  I  was  in  command  of  as  splendid 
an  army  as  general  ever  had.  It  was  stronger  and  larger 
the  day  I  reached  Atlanta  than  it  was  the  day  I  began  to 
retreat.  It  took  me  seventy-three  days  to  fall  back 
seventy-four  miles.  I  never  lost  a  wagon  or  a  caisson. 
I  put  almost  as  many  of  the  enemy  hors  de  combat  as  I  had 
in  my  army.  Men  who  were  at  home  flocked  to  me.  I 
had  put  fifteen  thousand  of  Governor  Brown's  militia  on 
the  fortifications,  and  Atlanta  was  impregnable.  I  had 
'  tolled  '  General  Sherman  just  to  the  place  where  I  wanted 
him,  i.  e.,  between  two  rivers.  I  had  divided  his  forces, 
and  would  have  fallen  on  one  part,  and  if  the  God  of 
battles  had  not  been  against  me,  I  would  have  crushed 
that,  and  fallen  on  the  other,  and  an  organized  command 
would  not  have  gotten  back  to  Chattanooga.  Three  bri- 
gades had  marched  three  miles  to  begin  the  fight  when 
the  order  came. " 

By  this  time  the  General  had  become  so  much  excited, 
that  the  tears  gushed  from  his  eyes,  and  he  strode  out  of 
the  room  into  the  piazza. 

General  Hardee  and  I  had  risen  to  our  feet,  as  excited 
as  the  General  was,  and  as  he  went  out.  General  Hardee 
fairly  sobbed,  as  he  said:  "  Yes,  and  the  grand  old  man 
does  not  tell  you,  but  I  will.  He  went  to  General  Hood, 
and  asked  him  to  withhold  the  order  until  the  battle  was 
fought.  Johnston  stipulated  that  if  it  should  be  a  victory 
it  should  be  Hood's,  if  a  defeat,  he  would  not  come  from 
the  field  alive.  If  it  would  only  be  a  check,  Johnston 
could  fall  back  on  Atlanta,  recruit  and  resume  operations. 


The  Last  Chapter  of  the  War,  183 

Hood,  however,  refused.     The  rest  we  know  ;  history  will 
tell  of  the  desolation  and  ruin  that  followed." 

Soon  after  this  conversation,  dinner  was  announced.  I 
sat  between  General  Johnston  and  General  Hardee.  As 
we  were  eating  soup,  a  telegram  was  handed  to  General 
Johnston,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  read  it  he  rose  from  the 
table  and  called  General  Hardee  out.  In  a  little  while  Gen- 
eral Hardee  called  me  out,  and  handed  me  the  telegram. 
It  ran  thus  : 

Sawsbury,  N.  C,  April,  1865. 

Gen.  Jos.  E.  Johnston  : 

I  have  not  heard  from  General  Lee  for  three  days,  but 
from  reports  from  stragglers,  he  has  met  with  a  great  dis- 
aster.    Come  to  me. 

Jefferson  Davis. 

General  Hardee  then  said,  "  General  Johnston,  you, 
and  myself  and  the  telegraph  operator  alone  know  the 
contents  of  that  telegram." 

*'  Where  is  General  Johnston  ?  "  I  asked. 

*'  Do  you  hear  that  train  ?  He  is  on  it,  and  has  gone 
to  the  President  at  Salisbury." 

* '  What  now, ' '  I  asked,  ' '  is  the  next  move  on  the  mili- 
tary chess-board  ?  ' ' 

"  If  that  is  true,"  General  Hardee  said,  ''  that  General 
Lee  has  been  defeated,  the  war  is  over  ;  this  is  only  an 
armed  mob.  We  have  nothing  but  the  debris  of  an  army, 
except  the  forces  with  General  Lee.  We  have  but  twelve 
thousand  armed  men  here,  and  propose  to  surrender  at 
Hillsborough.  We  intend  to  retreat  at  once,  and  no  firing 
will  be  allowed.  For  any  man  killed  now  on  either  side 
will  be  a  murdered  man.     You  will  go  with  me." 

He  gave  quick  orders,  and  the  armed  mob  was  put  in 


184  Led  On! 

motion.  Mr.  Tucker  pleaded  with  me  to  take  a  favorite 
negro  boy,  a  pair  of  fine  mules  and  a  wagon  for  my  easier 
transportation,  and  I  consented,  drove  off,  and  followed 
after  the  army.  We  camped  for  the  night  six  miles  from 
Raleigh,  and  I  slept  on  the  same  blanket  with  General 
Hardee  in  a  roadside  schoolhouse.  The  next  day,  when 
we  reached  Chapel  Hill,  General  Hardee  told  me  that  it 
was  all  true,  General  Lee  had  surrendered,  and  this  army 
would  be  disbanded  in  three  days.  He  warned  me  that 
a  disbanding  army  was  dangerous,  and  my  mules  might 
be  taken  from  me.  He  advised  me  to  leave  at  once,  and 
spread  news  that  the  war  was  over. 

Remonstrance  was  useless  ;  he  was  imperative  ;  so  I  left, 
and  made  for  Pittsborough,  where  relatives  of  mine,  the 
Hills  family,  resided.  I  stayed  with  them  that  night,  and 
I  never  saw  so  much  old  family  silver  in  one  family  in  my 
life.  There  were  a  number  of  large  clothes  baskets  filled 
with  it.  I  told  them  that  as  there  would  be  no  Federal 
army  through  there,  their  only  danger  was  from  the 
emancipated  negroes.  But  none  of  it  was  taken  ;  they 
saved  it  all.  The  next  day  I  started  towards  Cheraw,  in 
the  wagon.  It  was  an  exciting  ride.  At  every  farmhouse 
where  I  stopped,  to  learn  the  way,  I  was  told  which  was 
the  straightest  route,  but  not  to  go  down  that  road,  for  the 
woods  were  full  of  deserters  and  bushwhackers,  and  it  was 
not  safe.  But  that  was  just  the  road  I  had  to  take,  and 
I  rode  in  hourly  expectation  of  an  attack.  I  did  not  have 
even  a  pocket-knife  with  me,  but  I  was  not  troubled  by 
any  one.  I  followed  the  track  of  General  Sherman's 
army  when  he  was  coming  from  Cheraw,  and  was  seldom 
out  of  sight  or  smell  of  some  memorial  of  that  destructive 
march.  I  reached  Cheraw  in  safety,  and  there  rested,  and 
then  made  for  Columbia.  I  was  going  back  there  for 
those  groceries  which  I  had  hidden  in  Doctor  Reynolds's 
cellar,  and  thither  I  carried  the  news  of  the  collapse  of 


The  Last  Chapter  of  the  War,  185 

the  Confederacy,  but  the  news  was  not  beUeved.  There 
were  no  telegraph  Hnes  to  Cheraw  or  Columbia,  and  no 
word  had  been  heard.  At  Columbia  I  found  what  was  of 
great  importance  to  me,  my  barrel  of  sugar,  bag  of  coffee, 
two  boxes  of  candles,  and  roll  of  leather,  all  safe  and 
sound.  To  Mrs.  Reynolds  I  gave  some  coffee  and  sugar, 
and  loading  my  wagon  I  went  all  the  way  back  to  Ander- 
son. 

I  had  been  gone  a  month,  and  my  wife  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  where  I  was.  There  had  in  fact  been  no 
way  of  letting  her  know  that  I  had  found  McQueen,  and 
great  was  the  joy  when  I  drove  into  my  yard.  I  at  once 
called  my  servants  together,  and  told  them  they  were  free, 
and  could  leave  me  if  they  so  desired,  but  not  one  left. 
The  groceries  were  a  Godsend,  as  Confederate  money  was 
now  useless,  while  sugar,  coffee,  leather  and  candles  were 
as  good  as  gold,  and  we  lived  by  barter. 

The  third  day  after  my  arrival  at  Anderson,  a  rumor 
reached  me  that  a  party  of  raiders,  from  Asheville,  North 
Carolina,  had  looted  Greenville,  and  were  on  the  way  to 
Anderson.  By  the  afternoon  some  young  men  from  the 
outlying  farms  rode  furiously  through  the  town,  with  the 
news  that  the  Yankees,  as  thej^  were  called,  were  on  us, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  a  squad  of  these  raiders  were 
galloping  through  the  town.  They  had  on  the  Federal 
uniforms,  but  the  force  was  principally  a  set  of  deserters 
and  bummers,  and  therefore  the  more  dangerous.  They 
had  heard  the  Confederate  Treasury  had  been  removed 
from  Richmond  to  Anderson,  and  they  were  after  that. 
The  fact  was,  that  all  the  printing-presses  of  the  Treasury 
had  been  brought  to  that  town,  and  had  been  put  into  a 
schoolhouse,  on  the  lot  w^here  the  house  was  that  I  was 
living  in.  This  was  a  large  building  that  had  been  used 
as  dormitories  for  a  boarding-school,  or  college,  as  they 
called  it,  where  we  were  living,  and  this  large  schoolhouse 


1 86  Led  On! 


in  the  lot  was  where  the  printing-presses  had  been  placed 
to  print  Confederate  money,  and  eight  per  cent,  bonds  ; 
which  had  been  done  ad  libitum.  It  was  nearly  dark  when 
the  squad  rode  into  my  lot,  and  I  went  out  and  met  the 
leader.  I  said  to  him,  ''  The  war  is  over  ;  we  have  laid 
down  our  arms  ;  General  Lee  and  General  Johnston  have 
surrendered  to  General  Grant  and  General  Sherman,  and 
you  are  liable  to  trouble  as  marauders. ' ' 

The  man  either  did  not,  or  pretended  he  did  not,  be- 
lieve me,  and  said  he  had  come  for  the  Confederate  gold 
that  was  on  my  premises.  I  told  him  if  there  was  any 
he  would  have  to  find  it,  for  I  did  not  know  where  it  was. 
* '  There  is  plenty  of  paper  money, ' '  I  added,  * '  and  bonds 
here,  but  nothing  else." 

One  of  my  faithful  servants,  the  nurse  of  my  baby 
Charles,  had,  without  my  knowledge,  gathered  every 
piece  of  silver  in  the  house  and  disappeared.  The  officer 
dismounted,  and  brought  five  or  six  of  his  men  into 
my  house.  They  went  to  the  dining-room  and  opened 
the  sideboard,  and  every  closet  and  drawer  where  the 
silver  was  kept,  and  finding  none,  asked  where  my  silver 
was.  I  told  him  I  did  not  know  ;  when  last  seen  by  me 
all  those  places  were  full  of  silver,  but  where  it  had  gone 
I  could  not  tell.  He  called  up  my  Servian ts  and  ques- 
tioned them  ;  they  all  professed  ignorance.  I  noticed  that 
one  of  them  named  Ann  was  missing,  and  felt  quite  com- 
fortable, for  I  felt  sure  she  had  the  silver  somewhere,  but 
where,  I  truthfully  did  not  know.  Finding  nothing  down- 
stairs, the  officer  led  his  men  to  the  foot  of  the  staircase, 
but  a  cousin  of  mine,  Mrs.  Christopher  Mathewes,  who 
with  her  children  was  refugeeing  at  my  house,  stood  on 
the  lower  step,  and  said,  **  You  do  not  go  up  those  stairs 
unless  you  do  it  with  violence."  She  was  a  strikingly 
handsome  young  woman,  tall  and  graceful,  with  raven 
hair  and  brilliant  flashing  black  eyes.     She  was  a  beauti- 


The  Last  Chapte7^  of  the  War.  187 

fill  figure  as  she  stood  there  defying  these  men.  They 
paused.  She  said:  "  On  the  word  of  a  lady,  there  is  no 
silver,  no  jewelry,  no  money  upstairs  ;  nothing  but  our 
wardrobes,  and  you  shall  not,  if  you  are  men,  invade 
our  chambers  ;  if  you  are  beasts  there  is  nothing  to  be 
done. ' ' 

The  leader  was  cowed,  and  turning  to  me  he  said, 
"  Show  me  where  the  paper  money  is." 

I  knew  it  was  worthless,  and  was  glad  to  get  them  out 
of  my  house,  for  my  wife,  who  was  in  very  delicate  health, 
had  become  very  nervous.  I  led  him  out.  As  we  were 
walking  along,  he  threw  up  the  lapels  of  my  coat,  and  put 
his'hand  on  my  watch-pocket.  Finding  no  watch  there, 
he  said,  **  What  is  a  man  like  you  doing  without  a 
watch?" 

'  *  You  do  not  expect  a  man  who  has  been  through  Sher- 
man's  army  to  have  a  watch  ?  " 

"  Where  did  you  meet  Sherman  ?  " 

*  *  In  Columbia, ' '  I  said. 

He  only  grunted,  ' '  Oh ! ' '  and  said  no  more  about  my 
watch,  which  I  had  slipped  into  my  shoe  when  they 
came  into  the  yard,  for  I  had  had  experience. 

The  schoolhouse  was  full  of  very  expensive  machinery, 
and  the  squad  of  soldiers  ransacked  the  building,  of 
course  finding  nothing  but  paper.  They  were  furious 
with  rage  and  disappointment.  They  examined  the 
presses  carefully  and  asked,  "  Are  these  the  presses  that 
ground  out  your  money  ?  "  I  told  them  they  were  the 
same,  and  then  the  work  of  destruction  began.  They 
smashed  every  machine,  leaving  no  two  pieces  together. 
They  did  not  fire  the  building,  for  which  we  were 
specially  thankful. 

Thus  was  I  an  eye-witness  on  my  own  premises  of  the 
last  remnants  of  the  Confederate  Treasury.  The  party 
left,  but  the  rascals  had  gone  to  the  stable  and  carried  off 


i88  Led  On  I 


Mr,  Tucker's  two  fine  mules,  and  left  two  old  broken- 
down  horses  in  their  stead. 

After  those  robbers  had  gone  out  of  the  town,  Ann  came 
out  of  her  hiding-place,  and  brought  every  piece  of  silver 
with  her.  She  had  rescued  my  plate  of  her  own  accord. 
She  was  a  faithful  servant,  and  died  in  my  service  some 
ten  j^ears  afterwards,  faithful  to  the  end. 

When  the  excitement  was  over,  I  was  somewhat  men- 
tally broken  down,  for  all  this  time,  of  which  I  have  given 
account,  the  loss  of  our  dear  boy  had  been  gnawing  at  my 
heart.  The  stirring  scenes  I  had  been  in  had  kept  it 
down,  but  now  all  was  over,  and  the  Confederate  flag  was 
furled,  and  the  cause  for  which  so  many  lives  had  been 
given,  and  so  much  suffering  endured,  was  lost.  I  was 
overcome.  I  was,  with  the  rest,  left  penniless  ;  my  securi- 
ties were  worthless  ;  I  thought  I  had  a  little  real  estate  in 
Charleston,  but  no  money;  nothing  but  that  sugar  and 
coffee  and  leather  to  live  on,  and  a  house  full  of  people  to 
support.  There  was  not  a  blanket  in  the  house — all  had 
been  sent  to  the  soldiers.  There  was  not  even  a  piece  of 
flannel,  for  the  ladies  had  given  all  to  make  bags  to  put 
powder  in  for  cannon.  The  ladies  were  dressed  in  domes- 
tic ginghams  woven  by  country  women.  The  curtains 
were  cut  up  for  skirts.  There  was  nothing  but  blank 
despair,  and  my  heart  failed  me.  I  said,  '  *  Napoleon  was 
right  ;  God  was  on  the  side  of  the  strongest  battalions." 
The  question  of  right  was  after  all  a  mere  question  of 
might,  and  such  a  God  could  not  command  my  love  or 
obedience.  The  thought  that  a  cause  in  which  Robert  E. 
Lee  and  Stonewall  Jackson,  such  men,  such  eminent 
Christian  men,  had  drawn  their  swords,  should  fail,  made 
life  worthless,  and  I  folded  my  hands  and  wished  to  die. 

It  was  thus  that  my  religious  and  intellectual  outlook 
was  changed. 

I  had  always  been  fond  of  history,  and  had  a  large  col- 


The  Last  Chapter  of  the  War.  1 89 

lection  of  historical  works  ;  so  for  many  weeks  I  went 
early  every  morning  up  to  a  room  by  myself  and  read 
until  past  midnight,  scarcely  going  to  meals.  My  dear 
wife  did  all  she  could  to  cheer  and  rouse  me  ;  for  my 
mental  depression  almost  broke  her  heart.  I  read  a  long 
list  of  English  history,  Michelet's  Frayice,  Lamartine's 
History  of  the  Girondists,  Motley,  Pre.scott,  Gibbon's  Rise 
and  Fall,  and  finally  Grote's  Greece.  I  simpl}^  devoured 
the  books  and  read  with  lightning  speed.  My  edition  of 
Grote  is  in  twelve  volumes.  I  finished  the  book  after 
twelve  o'clock  one  night,  when  I  got  on  my  knees,  and 
thanked  God  for  the  lesson  I  had  learned.  I  went  down 
to  our  chamber.  My  wife  was  sleepless,  and  going  up  to 
her  bed,  I  took  her  hand  and  said  :  "  Wife,  I  have  been 
a  great  fool  ;  here  I  have  been  throwing  away  my  faith 
in  God,  my  interest  in  life,  my  duty  to  you  and  our  chil- 
dren, under  a  gross  delusion.  The  records  of  history 
show  that  every  great  nation  has  been  baptized  in  blood, 
that  failure  does  not  mean  wrong  in  the  defeated,  but  the 
results  have  always  thrown  the  people  forward.  Had  we 
succeeded,  slav^ery,  which  we  hated,  would  have  been  per- 
petuated with  the  sentiment  of  the  world  against  us.  It 
would  have  been  a  cankering  sore  in  our  body  politic  ;  it 
would  have  been  a  source  of  continual  strife  between  the 
United  States  and  the  Confederacy ;  this  would  have  made 
a  standing  army  in  each  government  a  necessity.  This 
would  have  revolutionized  the  form  of  our  respective  gov- 
ernments, and  in  fifteen  more  years  we  would  have  been 
engaged  in  a  war  of  extermination,  for  one  side  or  the 
other  would  have  to  be  masters  of  this  continent.  God 
has  permitted  the  wrath  and  ignorance  of  men  to  work  His 
will.  But  freed  from  the  incubus  of  slavery,  I  believe 
there  is  a  future  for  this  dear  Southland  yet,  and  I  am 
going  to  do  all  I  can  to  make  it.  I  was,  and  am  still, 
true  to  the  lost  cause  ;  but  I  am  not  going  to  hug  a  corpse 


IQO 


Led  On! 


and  carry  it  about  with  me  ;  I  am  too  young  for  that  ;  I 
am  just  thirty-seven  years  old,  and  I  have  you,  our  two 
children  and  our  adopted  daughter  to  make  a  future  for, 
and  God  helping  me,  I  am  going  to  do  it. ' ' 

What  a  burden  I  rolled  off  that  precious  heart  that 
night  !  We  thanked  God  that  the  evil  spell  was  gone, 
and  she  said,  ' '  Feeble  as  I  am,  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  help 
you." 


CHAPTER  XXI 


HOME  AGAIN 


I  return  home — The  darkey  in  uniform  yields  to  a  bluff— 
The  i7iiquities  of  the  Freedmen' s  Bureau — "  Give  us  this 
day  our  daily  bread''—  The  prayer  is  answered — Confisca- 
tion or  robbery  ?—  The  ^ood  George  Shrewsbury — /  open 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Co7nmunion  once  more — My  servioyi 
on  "  Set  your  house  ift  order,''  and  how  it  was  received. 


THE  old  horses  had  been  well  fed,  so  the  next  day,  I 
started  in  the  wagon  drawn  by  my  sorry  team,  and 
bound  for  Charleston.  When  I  reached  Abbey ville,  Mr. 
Edward  Miles,  afterwards  rector  of  St.  Luke's,  where  he 
died,  asked  for  a  seat.  I  carried  him  five  miles,  but  it 
was  too  rough  for  him,  and  a  returning  vehicle  took  him 
back  to  Abbeyville.  I  pushed  on  alone  towards  Edge- 
field, where  I  had  a  relative,  Prof.  F.  S.  Holmes,  the 
person  who  after  the  war,  first  discovered  the  phosphate 
rock  which  did  so  much  for  Charleston.  When  within 
six  miles  of  Mr.  Holmes's  house,  one  of  the  old  horses 
tumbled  over  and  died.  I  was  in  a  fix,  but  unbuckling 
the  harness  from  the  dead  horse,  I  took  his  place  and  led 
the  other  one.  It  was  an  uncommonly  tough  walk. 
Next  day  I  left  horse  and  wagon  at  Mr.  Holmes's,  and 
never  heard  of  either  afterwards.     I  then  walked  over  to 

191 


192  Led  On! 

Aiken,  where  I  met  the  Rev.  J.  H.  Cornish,  a  man  whose 
characteristic  was  to  do  everything  he  could  for  another, 
totally  forgetful  of  himself.  He  had  a  small  pony  and  an 
old  buggy,  and  offered  to  take  me  over  to  Orangeburg, 
where  we  arrived  after  many  difficulties. 

Once  at  Orangeburg,  I  went  direct  to  the  United  States 
official,  told  him  who  I  was,  that  I  wanted  to  return  to 
Charleston,  and  had  come  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  the  United  States  government,  which  was  required.  I 
duly  took  the  oath,  not  co7i  amove,  but  with  no  mental 
reservation.  The  trains  were  run  hy  the  army  of  occupa- 
tion, and  no  fares  were  charged  refugees  returning  home, 
so  I  got  on  the  car,  and  we  dragged  along  at  a  snail's 
pace,  for  the  track  was  in  a  dangerous  condition,  and  I 
reached  Charleston  in  the  afternoon.  I  went  directly  to 
my  house,  corner  of  Rutledge  and  Spring  Streets,  and  as 
I  came  in  sight,  I  saw  tall  corn  waving  above  the  fence. 
The  whole  of  my  beautiful  garden  and  the  large  lot  was  a 
cornfield.  That  was  shock  number  one.  Number  two, 
came  in  the  form  of  a  burly  black,  dressed  in  United  States 
uniform,  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder,  passing  in  front  of 
my  door.  As  I  approached  he  stopped  in  front  of  the 
gate,  and  said,  **  You  cannot  go  in  dey." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  I  said  ;  "  this  is  my  house." 

"  No  'taint,"  he  answered  ;  "  b' longs  to  de  Freedmen's 
Bureau." 

"Does  it?"  I  said;  this  was  a  revelation.  I  had 
never  heard  of  that  institution. 

I  saw  that  he  was  one  of  the  island  negroes,  dressed  up 
in  a  uniform  ;  so  I  thought  I  would  try  him  to  see  if  he 
had  lost  the  sense  of  obedience  ;  so  I  looked  at  him  very 
sternly,  and  in  an  authoritaitve  voice,  said,  ' '  Look,  here, 
darkey,  that  is  my  house,  and  if  you  do  not  get  out  of  the 
way  I  will  make  you." 

I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  what  I  should  have  done  if  he 


Ho7ne  Again.  193 


had  not  assented.  It  was  a  case  of  mere  bluff,  but  he 
dropped  his  gun  from  his  shoulder,  caught  hold  of  his 
woolly  head  by  a  front  curl,  scraped  his  feet,  and  said, 
"  Yes,  boss,  go  in." 

As  I  went  in,  I  stood  a  few  moments  inside  the  gate 
and  was  pretty  well  stirred  up  to  see  the  beautiful  flower- 
garden  I  had  left  in  February  turned  into  a  cornfield.  As  I 
went  to  the  piazza  door  and  pushed  it  open,  someone,  I 
saw,  was  behind  it.  I  recognized  the  English  woman  in 
whose  charge  I  had  left  the  house  (the  same  I  had  begun 
my  industrial  school  with).  She  immediately  said,  "  You 
cannot  come  in  here  ;  I  have  positive  orders  not  to  allow 
you  in." 

This  was  a  pleasant  welcome  home,  but  after  I  had 
brushed  aside  an  armed  darkey  and  got  in  at  the  gate, 
this  woman  angered  me  ;  for  I  had  been  a  good  friend  to 
her  in  great  need. 

"Madam,"  I  said,  politely,  "I  never  strike  an3^one, 
but  if  you  do  not  get  out  of  my  way  I  shall  knock  you 
down." 

She  took  fright,  and  ran  into  the  house,  and  up  into  the 
third  story,  and  locked  herself  in. 

There  was  an  old  colored  ser\^ant  in  the  yard,  named 
Lydia.  My  grandfather  had  given  her  to  my  father  when 
he  was  married.  She  had  cooked  for  him,  and  for  mother 
after  his  death,  until  I  was  married  and  went  to  house- 
keeping, but  had  not  done  any  work  for  some  years.  She 
lived  on  my  premises,  and  I  supported  her,  and  when  I 
had  left  the  city  in  February,  I  left  her  with  four  large 
hogs,  a  yard  full  of  poultry,  a  barrel  of  rice,  and  a  barrel 
of  grist,  so  I  knew  that  she  could  not  want  for  food.  As 
soon  as  she  heard  my  voice,  she  came  as  fast  as  her  old 
feet  could  carry  her,  and  threw  her  arms  round  me  and 
kissed  me  on  either  cheek,  crying  :  "  My  child  has  come 
home  ;  but  they  rob  you,  my  child,  of  all  you  had  in  the 


13 


1 94  Led  On  I 

house  !  They  broke  open  all  the  closets  looking  for  the 
wine  you  had  ;  but  I  so  glad  they  did  not  find  any." 

As  soon  as  I  could  disengage  myself  I  went  into  the 
house,  and  it  was  empty.  There  were  twelve  rooms  in 
the  house,  and  I  had  left  them  all  filled  with  furniture. 
Besides  my  own,  Mr.  Alston  Pringle,  Doctor  Wragg,  and 
Colonel  A.  G.  Andrews  had  a  quantity  of  theirs  in  the 
house.  Old  Maum  Lydia  could  only  tell  me  people  had 
come  with  wagons  and  carted  it  all  away.  The  English 
woman  would  not  open  her  door,  and  I  did  not  wish  to 
break  it  down,  but  she  had  some  furniture  in  the  chamber 
she  was  occupjdng.  My  sexton  soon  came  and  told  me 
the  Freedmen's  Bureau  people  had  taken  it.  He  led  me 
to  the  house  of  one  of  the  carpetbaggers  who  were  in  the 
employ  of  that  institution  which  did  the  negroes  so  much 
harm.  It  defrauded  them  of  their  savings  in  the  bank  it 
established,  and  by  feeding  them  in  idleness,  and  putting 
the  worst  ideas  in  their  heads,  caused  such  an  annoyance 
to  us  white  people,  and  it  became  such  an  abomination 
that  the  United  States  government  abolished  it  as  soon 
as  it  discovered  its  mistake  in  creating  it.  I  went  into  the 
house,  and  there  I  saw  my  furniture  ;  the  parlor  was  filled 
with  it.  I  looked  in  a  chamber,  and  it,  too,  was  so  fur- 
nished. 

"  Why,"  I  said,  *'  madam,  you  have  all  my  furniture 
here,  and  I  have  come  for  it." 

"  It  is  confiscated,"  she  said. 

Confiscated,  indeed  !  If  the  United  States  government 
had  gone  round  and  taken  our  furniture,  it  would  have 
been  a  small  business  ;  we  would  have  to  submit,  but  I 
said  :  ' '  The  government  knows  nothing  about  this  ;  and 
it  is  pure  and  simple  stealing. ' ' 

The  woman  had  a  pan  of  hot  water  on  the  stove  ;  she 
looked  at  me  and  then  at  the  pan.  I  saw  by  her  eye  that 
it  would  not  be  long  before  I  got  the  contents  of  the  pan, 


Home  Again.  195 


so  I  beat  a  retreat,  and  never  recovered  one  article.     When 
order  was  restored,  and  this  driftwood  was  moved  out  of 
Charleston,  shiploads  of  the  people's  furniture  were  sent 
North  by  these  vagabonds  and  there  was  no  redress.     I 
had  said  to  my  old  servant,  "  I  am  very  hungry,  as  I  have 
no  money  and  have  had  no  dinner."     "  Oh,  my  honey," 
she   said,    "  I   will  get   a  dinner  for  you."     So  when  I 
got   back  from  the   furniture    hunt,    I  found    rice,    and 
a  chicken,  and  some  eggs.     I  sat  on  a  chair  she  brought 
me,  and  in  one  of  her  plates,  with  her  knife  and  fork,  by 
a  table  she  furnished,  I  ate  my  first  meal  at  home.     After 
dinner  my  sexton  and  I  went  round  to  the  church.     It 
was  a  sorry  sight  ;  carpet  and  cushions,  and  books  were 
all  gone  ;  even  in  the  Sunday-school  room  the  children's 
library  was  all  gone.     All  the  sewing-machines  and  furni- 
ture of  the  Industrial  School  were  missing — all  taken  by 
the  same  set  of  lawless  thieves.     My  sexton  told  me  that 
most  of  the  people,  white  and  colored,  were  living  on 
rations  furnished  by  the  government.     I  found  a  part  of  . 
the  city,  about  the  Northeastern  Railroad  had  been  burned 
at  the  evacuation,  which  added  to  the  portion  burned  on 
the  I  ith  of  October,  1861.     The  city  looked  very  desolate. 
I  did  not  wish  to  see  any  of  my  people  at  their  homes, 
and  in  their  present  plight.     After  going  over  the  church 
and  the  schoolhouse,  with  a  heavy  heart  I  went  out,  and 
leaned  on  the  iron  railing  which  then  surrounded  the 
church,   and  on  looking  down  Cannon  Street,  I  saw  a 
country  negro  girl  fantastically  dressed  in  some  old  finery 
she  had  picked  up  somewhere,  followed  by  three  planta- 
tion negro  men.     The  girl  was  singing  at  the  top  of  her 
voice,  and  as  she  came  near  I  caught  the  words,  which 
were  as  follows  : 

"  You  may  paint  and  you  may  rub, 
You  may  wash  and  you  may  scrub, 
But  a  nigger  will  be  a  nigger  till  he  die— Yah  !  Yab  !  Yah  !  " 


196  Led  On  ! 

"  Dat  's  so,"  exclaimed  the  three  men. 

It  was  such  unexpected  testimony  to  a  great  truth  that 
I  had  a  hearty  laugh,  and  it  did  me  good.  My  never- 
failing  friend,  Mr.  Theodore  D.  Wagner,  took  me  into  his 
house  for  the  night. 

The  following  morning  I  went  early  down-town  to  post 
a  notice,  that  there  would  be  service  at  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Communion  next  day.  The  Rev.  J.  M.  Green  and 
the  Rev.  J.  B.  Seabrook  were  the  only  Episcopal  ministers 
in  the  city.  The  Rev.  W.  B.  W.  Howe  had  been  sent 
out  by  the  Federals  because  he  would  not  use  the  prayer 
for  the  President  of  the  United  States  while  the  Confed- 
eracy was  still  in  existence.  He  and  I  had  been  the  only 
two  at  active  work  there.  Mr.  Keith,  Doctor  Elliott, 
Doctor  Pinckney,  Doctor  Hanckel,  had  all  left.  Mr. 
Shanklin  and  Mr.  Dennison  had  died  of  yellow  fever.  I 
was  the  first  Episcopal  clergyman  to  return. 

On  my  way  through  the  market,  I  met  George  Shrews- 
bury, a  colored  butcher  ;  he  belonged  to  that  respectable 
class  of  free  colored  citizens,  who  were  so  numerous  in 
the  city  of  Charleston  before  the  war,  and  who  had  always 
commanded  the  respect  and  esteem  of  the  white  popula- 
tion. He  had  acquired  some  wealth  ;  he  was  a  member 
of  the  Methodist  Church,  but  like  many  of  the  colored 
members  of  that  denomination,  he  preferred  that  his  chil- 
dren should  be  baptized,  married,  and  buried  by  an  Epis- 
copal minister.  I  had  performed  several  services  for  him 
and  his  family,  so  that  for  many  years  there  had  been  a 
kindly  feeling  between  us.  When  he  heard  in  February 
that  I  was  going  to  leave  the  city,  he  came  to  my  house, 
and  said,  that  if  I  was  afraid  that  my  servants  would 
leave  me,  although  his  family  had  never  acted  in  a  menial 
capacity,  he  would  guarantee  that  I  should  be  waited  on 
by  some  of  them,  if  I  would  only  remain  in  the  city,  and 
as  long  as  he  had  any  meat  at  his  stall  in  the  market,  I 


Home  Again.  197 


should  have  some.  Of  course,  as  it  has  been  recorded,  I 
declined  his  kind  offer.  But  when  we  met  this  fourth  day 
of  June,  1865,  he  was  delighted  to  see  me,  and  expressed 
his  gratitude  that  the  gentlemen  were  coming  back,  for 
Charleston  was  not  home  without  them.  After  his  wel- 
come, I  said,  "  George,  do  you  know  the  Lord's  Prayer  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  he  said. — "  But  do  you  know  what  it 
means  ?  "  I  told  him  that  I  feared  I  had  never  before 
known  its  meaning.  [Reader,  are  you  sure  that  you 
understand  it  ?]  "I  had  for  very  many  years, ' '  I  went 
on,  "  said,  '  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,'  but  George, 
I  am  afraid  that  I  relied  more  on  my  bank  account  than 
on  Him  who  had  given  me  that.  To-day  I  have  not  a 
cent,  and  nothing  with  which  to  get  my  dinner,  but  I  find 
in  the  Bible  this  command  and  promise,  '  Dwell  in  the 
land,  and  be  doing  good,  and  verily  thou  shalt  be  fed.' 
And  now,"  I  said,  "  I  intend  to  do  all  the  good  I  can,  and 
God  knows  I  must  be  fed,  or  I  can  do  no  good,  so  I  shall 
leave  the  whole  matter  in  His  hands. ' '  I  left  my  colored 
friend  with  a  cheerfulness  more  apparent  than  real,  and 
posted  my  notice.  I  went  back  home  with  some  foolscap 
paper  which  I  had  asked  someone  in  town  to  give  me, 
got  a  pen,  and  with  some  ink  borrowed  from  a  Dutchman's 
corner  shop,  wrote  my  sermon  for  the  next  day,  the  5th 
of  June,  1865.  My  text  was  from  Isaiah,  the  thirty-eighth 
chapter,  part  of  the  first  verse,  ' '  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Set 
thine  house  in  order. ' '  I  finished  writing  my  sermon,  and 
my  old  cook  provided  a  dinner  for  me,  and  I  went  out  on 
the  veranda,  and  sat  on  the  floor  smoking  an  old  pipe. 

I  was  thinking  of  my  sermon,  which  I  knew  would  strike 
a  discordant  note,  and  wondering  whether  it  was  discreet, 
when  a  ring  at  the  street  bell  took  me  to  the  door.  It  was 
George  Shrewsbury,  who  with  many  apologies  offered  me 
a  roll  of  money,  one  hundred  dollars  in  greenbacks.  He 
said  he  had  intended  buying  some  cattle  with  it,  but  that 


1 98  Led  On  ! 


he  had  had  no  rest  since  I  had  passed  through  the  market. 
To  think  that  a  gentleman  in  my  position  had  no  money- 
was  an  idea  he  could  not  take  in.  I  declined  the  loan,  as 
I  had  no  security  to  offer.  ' '  My  property  here, ' '  I  said, 
**  is  held  by  the  Freedmen's  Bureau,  and  they  have  stolen 
all  my  furniture  ;  you  saw  me  sitting  on  the  floor.  I  do 
not  own  a  chair."  He  insisted,  saying  that  if  I  refused 
the  loan,  he  would  think  that  I  regarded  the  offer  as  a 
liberty  on  his  part,  and  that  I  was  offended.  Of  course  I 
could  not  let  him  go  away  with  such  thoughts,  so  I  said, 

I  will  give  you  my  note  for  it. ' ' 

I  do  not  wish  your  note,  sir,  you  know  you  owe  it, 
and  I  know  it  ;  when  you  can  return  it  I  know  you  will. 
If  you  never  can  do  it,  it  will  be  all  the  same  ;  I  am  paid 
enough  in  knowing  that  I  have  added  to  3^our  comfort. ' ' 

I  confess  my  eyes  were  not  dry  ;  first,  from  the  thought 
that  I  should  be  in  the  condition  to  need  such  aid,  and 
next  that  it  should  come  from  one  not  in  my  own  sphere, 
nor  even  of  my  own  race.  Money  was  then  worth  in 
Charleston  anything  the  most  extortionate  chose  to  ask. 
I  could  not  repay  the  one  hundred  dollars  for  eighteen 
months  ;  when  I  paid  the  last  five  dollars,  I  told  him,  "  I 
shall  owe  you  one  hundered  dollars  on  interest  account." 

"  You  owe  no  interest,  sir  ;  I  have  been  abundantly 
repaid  in  feeling  I  was  the  means  of  relieving  you  in  a 
sore  time  of  need,  and  whenever  you  wish  it  again  it  is  at 
your  disposal." 

George  Shrewsbury  will  come  on  the  stage  later  on.  I 
resumed  my  pipe,  feeling  decidedly  more  comfortable,  and 
quite  sure  I  had  made  no  mistake  in  m.y  sermon  for  the 
next  day.  Sunday  morning  came.  I  held  service  and 
gave  out  the  text,  "  Set  thy  house  in  order."  I  paused, 
and  added,  '  *  For  thou  shalt  live,  and  not  die, — though  that 
is  not  how  the  sentence  reads."  I  reviewed  the  text,  and 
then  urged  the  hearers  to  turn  their  backs  on  the  past, 


Ho7ne  Again.  199 


and  look  to  the  future;  not  to  waste  energies  on  vain  re- 
grets, but  to  realize  that  they  were  on  a  wreck  and  to 
save  life  the}^  must  build,  out  of  materials  at  hand,  a  raft 
to  bear  them  to  the  shore.  They  were  in  chaos,  but  out 
of  the  confusion  they  must  lay  a  basis  for  future  building. 
It  was  their  duty  to  accept  as  a  fact  the  freedom  of  the 
slaves,  and  to  act  accordingly  ;  the  negroes  had  not  freed 
themselves,  and  had  acted  well,  and  needed  our  aid  ;  if 
we  would,  we  could  keep  them  as  friends,  and  not  drive 
them  over  to  the  Northerners,  whom  they  would  look 
upon  as  their  deliverers,  and  would  become  subservient 
to  them.  I  added,  that  I  should  try  to  get  into  a  free 
school-board  as  soon  as  there  was  one,  and  do  all  I  could 
to  educate  the  negroes,  that  they  might  learn  that  liberty 
was  not  licentiousness.  I  said  as  free  men  they  would 
surely  be  given  the  ballot,  and  we  should  offer  it  them 
when  they  could  read,  write,  and  cipher,  and  owned  five 
hundred  dollars  of  freehold  property,  etc. 

The  church  was  packed.  A  number  of  United  States 
officers  were  present.  Governor  Aiken  came  to  the 
chancel  before  I  got  out  of  it,  thanked  me  for  my  sermon, 
and  said  :  *  *  If  this  is  the  way  our  public  men  are  going  to 
speak,  there  is  hope  for  the  old  land  yet  ;  we  shall  live, 
and  not  die."  Not  so  did  all  my  hearers  take  it.  It  was 
the  first  time  that  they  had  the  concrete  facts  presented 
to  them,  and  they  were  told  they  had  something  to  do — 
they,  as  well  as  the  negroes  and  the  Yankees.  An  old 
cousin  of  mine,  a  late  wealthy  rice  planter,  then  with  his 
family  living  on  government  rations,  was  especially  sore. 
He  growled  at  me  after  service,  "  Why,  you  have  gone 
over  to  the  enemy ;  you  have  turned  abolitionist ! ' ' 

*'  Well,"  I  said,  "  Cousin  Laurens,  I  expect  I  feel  as 
much  as  you  do  ;  I  am  with  you  in  the  common  ruin,  but 
I  am  not  going  to  stay  in  the  debris.  I  have  taken  the 
oath  of  allegiance  to  the  United  States  government.     I 


200  Led  On  ! 


thought  it  wiser  than  to  expatriate  myself.  I  think  it 
wisest  not  to  look  upon  the  government  to  which  I  have 
submitted  as  an  enemy,  but  as  a  protector.  We  need 
money,  we  need  immigrants,  to  fill  up  the  gaps  ;  we  will 
get  neither  without  order,  and  we  will  get  no  order  with- 
out peace.  Turned  abolitionist  !  What  have  we  to 
abolish  ?  The  victorious  arms  of  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment abolished  slavery,  and  I,  for  one,  thank  God  it  is 
done.  I  would  not  have  done  it  so  suddenly  ;  it  means 
suffering,  and  wholesale  death  to  the  poor  blacks.  If  more 
judgment,  and  less  passion,  had  been  shown,  the  negroes 
could  have  been  freed,  and  the  South  not  left  so  destitute, 
and  the  whole  country  would  have  been  the  better  for  it. 
But  it  is  done,  and  now,  if  we  have  any  sense  left,  let  us 
make  the  most  and  the  best  of  it."  This  conversation 
was  held  in  my  vestry  room,  immediately  after  morning 
service.  Poor  man,  he  had  come  in  quite  angry  with  me, 
but  as  I  talked,  he  saw  the  wisdom  of  it,  and  the  tears 
rolled  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  said  :  *  *  No  doubt,  Toomer, 
you  are  right ;  but  it  is  hard,  oh,  so  hard  ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXII 


A    DESTITUTE    BISHOP 


/  make  a  business  venture  which  is  highly  successful— My 
home  is  again  furnished— I  dissipate  the  despair  of  Bishop 
Davis,  and  see  that  his  wants  are  provided  for— ''  Porter, 
have  you  Aladdin' s  la?7ip  f  " 

MONDAY  morning  I  walked  down  Hasell  Street,  to 
a  store  that  had  been  kept  by  the  Messrs.  Kerri- 
son,  and  is  now  the  dry  goods  store  of  the  P.  D.  Kerrison 
Co.  A  Mr.  John  Wilson,  a  good-natured  Irishman  who 
had  been  a  sutler  in  the  United  States  army,  then  had  the 
building  as  a  grocery  store.  I  walked  boldly  up  to  him, 
and  said  :  "  You  are  Mr.  Wilson,  I  am  the  Rev.  A.  Toonier 
Porter,  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion." 

*  *  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  you. ' ' 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  as  I  do  not  think  you  have  heard 
anything  very  bad,  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  give  me  a 
credit  for  five  hundred  dollars.  I  have  nothing  on  earth 
to  offer  as  security  but  my  face  and  my  character." 

He  smiled  and  said,  ' '  What  I  have  heard  of  you  makes 
me  glad  to  know  you  have  come  back  to  this  disordered 
city.  But  why  do  you  want  so  much  credit  ?  You  may 
get  what  you  need  for  your  family,  but  why  five  hundred 
dollars  at  once  ?  ' ' 


201 


202  Led  On  ! 


"  George  Shrewsbury,"  I  said,  "  has  loaned  me  a  hun- 
dred dollars.  Of  this  I  wish  to  keep  five  dollars  so  as  on 
a  pinch  to  get  a  loaf  of  bread  with.  Ninet3^-five  dollars  I 
need  to  pay  freight  to  Anderson.  I  will  have  to  wagon 
from  Orangeburg  to  Newberry.  If  you  will  let  me  have 
the  groceries,  I  will  go  round,  and  try  to  get  five  hundred 
dollars  more  credit  in  dry  goods.  Not  a  store  has  been 
opened  in  Anderson,  and  if  I  can  get  there  first,  I  can 
pay  3^ou  something  on  account  in  thirty  days." 

I  now  felt  the  good  of  my  business  training  at  Robert- 
son and  Blacklock's  Rice  House. 

*'  You  shall  have  the  credit.  I  wish  you  luck  ;  you 
look  as  if  you  mean  business. ' ' 

"  I  do  mean  business,  my  friend.  I  have  a  family  to 
support,  and  my  wife  is  in  delicate  health,  and  she  will 
soon  have  nothing  whereby  to  get  food  for  the  children. 
Yes,  I  mean  business,  and  George  Shrewsbury  has  enabled 
me  to  get  at  it." 

I  went  round  and  got  credit  for  five  hundred  dollars  in 
dry  goods  from  different  parties,  telling  each  why  I  asked 
it,  and  none  refused.  I  then  wrote  to  Christopher 
Mathewes,  a  cousin,  who  was  at  my  house  with  his  family 
in  Anderson,  to  meet  me  on  Thursday  at  Orangeburg, 
and  to  have  two  wagons  to  go  to  Newberry.  On  Thurs- 
day I  got  a  permit  for  transportation,  and  met  Mathewes 
with  the  wagon  at  Orangeburg.  We  loaded  up  that 
evening,  and  camped  a  few  miles  out  of  town,  he  sleeping 
in  one  wagon  and  I  in  the  other,  each  with  a  pistol,  for 
it  was  the  first  lot  of  groceries  that  had  gone  through  a 
disordered  country,  and  the  risk  was  great.  We  reached 
Newberry  on  the  third  day,  and  though  it  was  Sunda}^,  I 
felt  that  God  knew  it  all,  and  as  we  could  only  get  a  flat 
open  dirt  car  for  our  goods,  we  rigged  up  some  boards  on 
the  sides  and  ends,  and  put  our  goods  on  the  car  and 
started.     We  danced  a  fisher's  hornpipe  on  that  car,  keep- 


A  Destitute  Bishop.  203 

ing  things  from  going  overboard,  but  we  succeeded.  I 
had  gotten  the  keys  of  a  store  which  Mr.  Wagner  owned, 
and  loaned  me,  he  being  much  amused  at  my  undertak- 
ing, but  commending  my  enterprise.  When  we  reached 
Anderson,  our  cargo  was  a  great  surprise,  and  a  crowd 
gathered  at  once.  I  told  them  that  as  we  would  open  the 
next  day,  they  might  bring  their  money,  gold  and  silver 
and  greenbacks,  and  get  anything  they  wished.  We 
hauled  our  goods  to  the  store,  and  Mathewes  and  I  shut 
ourselves  in  and  worked  nearly  all  night  getting  the 
goods  opened  and  arranged.  I  very  much  fear,  if  the 
truth  has  to  be  told,  that  the  advanced  price  was  a  very 
heavy  percentage.  When  we  finished,  we  took  some 
large  pieces  of  brown  paper,  and  in  large  letters  printed 
on  it  what  we  had. 

We  went  to  bed  full  of  expectation  and  excitement. 
Next  morning  betimes  we  were  at  the  store,  but  not  be- 
fore some  customers  were  waiting,  for  the  news  had 
spread  far  and  wide.  The  doors  had  not  been  opened  ten 
minutes  before  the  store  was  crowded,  and  it  was  all  we 
could  do  to  supply  the  wants  of  our  customers.  They 
brought  nothing  but  silver  and  gold,  for  things  they  had 
not  seen  for  four  years  were  before  them  in  quantities, 
and  each  seemed  afraid  lest  what  they  wanted  would  be 
gone  before  they  could  get  their  share.  Stockings  were 
emptied  of  their  hoardings,  and  our  till  received  it.  By 
the  evening,  we  had  taken  eight  hundred  dollars,  and  I 
am  almost  ashamed  to  say,  a  good  part  of  the  one  thou- 
sand dollar  stock  still  on  hand.  I  sent  Mathewes  to  look 
for  a  good  man  next  day  to  help  as  clerk.  In  the  evening 
I  got  my  wife  to  sew  the  coin  in  a  belt.  *'  Now,"  I  said, 
*'  Mathewes,  you  must  carry  on  the  store.  I  will  go  back 
to  Charleston,  establish  my  credit  there  by  quick  payments, 
get  one  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  groceries,  and  come  back 
to  you.     I  can  now  manage  by  myself  the  transportation. ' ' 


204  Led  On  ! 

Early  next  morning  I  took  the  train  to  Newberry,  and 
made  my  way  back  to  Orangeburg,  engaged  four  wagons 
to  wait  on  me,  and  in  less  than  a  week  I  walked  into  Mr. 
Wilson's  store,  and  said  :  "  I  have  eight  hundred  dollars 
in  hand.  I  want  enough  out  of  it  to  pay  transportation, 
and  will  pay  you  three  hundred  dollars  on  account  of  the 
five  hundred  dollars,  and  three  hundred  dollars  to  the  dry- 
goods  people.  Now  I  want  one  thousand  dollars  credit  on 
groceries. ' ' 

"  Five  thousand  dollars,  if  you  want  it,"  Mr.  Wilson 
said  ;  "for  this  beats  all  I  know.  How  have  yoM  done 
it?" 

I  made  out  my  list,  and  told  him  to  send  the  goods  to 
the  station  that  day,  then  went  round  and  paid  the  three 
hundred  dollars  to  the  dry-goods  people,  who  offered  me 
all  the  credit  I  wanted,  but  I  needed  none,  for  I  found  it 
was  the  grocery  line  that  had  the  profit  in  it,  as  food  was 
much  more  needed  by  the  people. 

The  following  days  we  still  had  a  crowd  at  our  store, 
and  in  three  days  I  had  money  enough  to  pay  the  debt  in 
Charleston.  By  this  time  I  had  waked  up  some  of  the 
men,  and  I  heard  of  several  who  were  going  to  Charleston 
for  goods  ;  but  we  had  skimmed  the  cream.  It  was  the 
only  store  in  Anderson  where  our  kind  of  goods  could  be 
had.  When  I  had  money  enough  to  pay  the  debt,  to  have 
some  for  transportation,  and  a  little  for  my  own  needs,  I 
said  to  Mathewes  :  "  I  shall  now  leave  you  in  charge,  for 
I  must  go  home  and  resume  my  legitimate  business.  I 
must  gather  up  my  flock,  rebuild  the  parish,  and  go  on 
preaching  the  Gospel." 

It  was  now  the  first  of  July,  and  I  left  next  morning 
after  having  paid  all  my  debts  in  less  than  fifteen  days, 
gained  unlimited  credit,  and  supported  my  family.  In 
November,  I  returned  to  Anderson  for  my  family,  took 
from  the  store  money  to  pay  our  passage  down,  with  such 


A  Destitute  Bishop.  205 

trifling  furniture  as  we  had,  and  a  little  to  supply  our 
pressing  necessities,  presented  the  contents  of  the  store  to 
Mathewes  to  support  his  family  on,  which  he  did  for 
nearly  a  year.  At  the  Broad  River  I  put  my  few  articles 
of  furniture  with  my  library  and  servants  in  a  flat,  and 
had  them  floated  to  Columbia.  There  I  procured  a  car- 
riage and  took  the  family  to  Columbia,  thence  to  Orange- 
burg, and  so  back  to  Charleston.  There  I  borrowed  two 
chairs  from  the  corner  shop,  the  children  sat  on  the  trunks, 
friends  lent  us  a  bed  or  two,  and  a  few  days  later,  the  Span- 
ish Consul  having  a  sale  of  furniture,  I  bought  for  a  song, 
furniture  for  the  dining-room,  our  bedroom,  and  the  chil- 
dren's room,  as  well  as  a  sofa.  The  odds  and  ends  I  sub- 
sequently brought  from  Columbia,  and  that  was  all  we 
had  for  some  years. 

And  here  we  were  at  home,  in  November,  1865,  and  I  was 
then  nearly  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  with  a  wife  totally 
broken  in  health,  two  children,  a  boy  often  years  old  and 
one  of  three,  with  an  adopted  daughter,  and  not  a  dollar 
of  income,  still  the  owner  of  two  houses,  the  one  I  was 
living  in,  and  the  other  in  Ashley  Street,  next  to  the 
Sunday-school  house  ;  this  latter  unoccupied.  Of  course 
there  was  no  salary  from  the  church.  The  Sunday  offer- 
ings barely  paid  the  sexton  and  organist,  leaving  little  for 
the  rector. 

When  I  returned  to  Charleston  in  July,  I  found  a  letter 
from  McQueen,  who  said  that  if  I  was  in  any  trouble 
about  my  property,  I  must  write  to  General  Howard,  as 
the  latter  requested.  I  did  write,  and  Howard  immedi- 
ately directed  General  Saxton  to  release  my  property,  and 
return  it  to  me,  which  was  done;  so  when  my  wife  came 
back,  at  least  the  house  was  ours.  I  was  not  idle,  and 
very  soon  regathered  such  of  the  fragments  of  the  congre- 
gation as  remained,  while  a  few  new  families  came  in  to 
us. 


2o6  Led  On  I 


The  journal  of  the  convention  of  February,  1866,  shows 
that  I  had,  in  that  summer  of  1865,  from  the  5th  of  June 
(exclusive  oixn.y  shop-keeping)  baptized  thirty-two  whites, 
and  eleven  colored  ;  nine  had  been  confirmed  in  my 
parish  ;  there  were  nineteen  marriages  and  forty-one 
burials.  Our  congregation  numbered  one  hundred  com- 
municants and  sixty  Sunday-school  children.  Our  com- 
munion alms  amounted  to  one  hundred  and  eighty-one 
dollars.  Since  the  cessation  of  hostilities  our  communi- 
cants were  about  one  hundred,  but  as  the  congregation  was 
just  collecting,  after  our  total  break-up,  the  number  can- 
not be  definite.  One  ver}^  pleasant  feature  was  the  steady 
attendance  of  my  former  colored  congregation,  and  their 
quiet,  respectful  demeanor. 

In  1866,  I  invited  Bishop  Da\ds  and  daughter  to  stay  at 
our  house,  which  they  did  ;  my  wife's  ingenuity  accom- 
modating them,  without  their  knowing  our  straits.  One 
night,  before  going  to  bed,  the  dear  old  Bishop  said  to 
me,  *  *  Porter,  I  am  the  dying  bishop  of  a  dead  diocese. ' ' 
Oh  no,  not  so  bad  as  that." 

Yes,"  he  said,  and  he  ran  over  the  churches  that  had 
been  destro3^ed,  the  communities  and  parishes  that  had 
been  wiped  out  of  existence.  The  Theological  Seminary 
was  burned,  the  library  scattered,  fifty  thousand  dollars 
endowment  gone,  Bishops'  Fund  gone.  Aged  and  Infirm 
Clergy  Society  gone.  Widows  and  Orphans  of  Clergy  So- 
ciety gone.  Advancement  Societ}^  gone.  **  I  myself,  be- 
sides, have  received  no  salary  for  1865,  I  have  nothing  left 
at  home,  and  look  at  me,  my  coat  has  been  turned." 

His  pants  were  threadbare,  and  his  hat — what  a  hat  it 
was  ! — and  no  overcoat.  It  was  a  pitiable  tale.  I  had 
overlooked  the  Bishop's  wants,  for  I  did  not  know  he  had 
received  no  salary.  But  anticipating  that  he  would  be 
depressed,  I  had  seen  Mr.  Evan  Edwards  about  the 
Advancement  Society,  and  Mr.  John  Hanckel  about  the 


A  Destitute  Bishop,  207 

Bishops'  Fund,  and  all  the  treasurers  of  the  other  socie- 
ties, so  I  said:  "  To  begin  with,  the  Bishops'  Fund  has 
some  $58,000  saved  ;  Society  for  the  Advancement  of 
Christianity,  $34,000  ;  Aged  Clergy  Fund,  $35,000  ; 
Widows  and  Orphans,  $57,000  ;  the  Theological  Scholar- 
ships, $7000,  all  saved." 

The  Bishop  was  half  reclining  in  an  armchair.  He 
raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  turned  his  sightless  eyes 
towards  me,  saying,  ' '  Porter,  how  do  you  know  that  such 
good  news  is  true  ?  ' ' 

'  *  I  am  reading  you  the  report  furnished  by  the  different 
treasurers. ' ' 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  said,  * '  Thank  God,  it 
is  not  as  bad  as  I  thought." 

I  said,  "  Bishop,  our  own  cares  have  so  absorbed  us, 
we  have  forgotten  your  needs,  but  I  promise  you  in  as  few 
hours  as  it  can  be  done,  you  shall  have  the  best  suit  of 
clothes  in  Charleston,  and  your  family  shall  be  provided 
for. ' ' 

He  asked  me,  "  How  are  you  going  to  do  it  ?  " 

* '  Leave  that  to  me, ' '  I  said. 

Getting  up,  he  said,  * '  Porter,  you  are  the  first  live  man 
I  have  met  with. ' ' 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  Bishop,  I  am  too  young  to  give  up 
yet." 

''  Well,"  he  said,  *'  I  have  heard  enough  for  one  time 
and  I  will  go  to  bed." 

Next  morning  he  told  me  he  had  slept  soundly  all 
night,  the  first  night's  sleep  for  months. 

*'  And  now,"  I  said,  "  Bishop,  I  wish  you  to  lie  down 
here  till  I  come  for  you."  And  off  I  started  for  Broad 
Street.  I  soon  arranged  for  the  Bishop's  relief,  by  appeal- 
ing to  several  church  people.  And  the  next  day  I  took 
his  hand,  and  put  in  it  a  roll  of  bills. 

' '  What  is  this  ?  "  he  asked. 


208 


Led  On  I 


I  said,  "It  is  $650,  and  you  will  have  your  suit  of 
clothes  day  after  to-morrow."  Then  I  told  him  what  I 
had  done.  ' '  This  money  is  for  yourself  and  family,  you 
are  not  to  give  it  away."  But  I  believe  he  did  give  it 
nearly  all  to  some  of  his  poverty-stricken  clergy. 
He  said:  "  Porter,  have  you  an  Aladdin's  Lamp  ?  " 
"  No,"  I  replied,  "  but  you  have  some  noble,  warm- 
hearted laymen  in  the  Church,  and  they  only  had  to  be 
told  of  your  need,  and  this  is  the  result. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


WARM   NORTHERN   FRIENDS 


Bishop  Davis  at  the  Diocesan  Convention  of  1866 — Churches 
ayid  parochial  schools  for  the  colored  people — Good  resolutions 
are  no  ttse  ivithout  practical  performa?ice — /  take  steps 
toward  the  carrying  out  of  certain  good  resolutions  passed 
by  the  convention — The  Bishop  sends  Tne  North  to  collect 
funds  for  the  Theological  Seuiinajy  a7id  colored  school — lam 
ki7idly  received  i7i  Nezv  York  by  Dr.  Twi?ig,  a?id  in 
Brooklyii  by  Dr.  Littlejohn — Mimificence  of  Mr.  A.  A. 
Low. 


THE  war  was  over  and  now  a  new  chapter  in  my  life 
opened.  I  will  detail  it  from  the  beginning. 
Bishop  Davis  in  his  address  to  the  Episcopal  Conven- 
tion of  February,  1866,  in  Grace  Church,  the  first  held 
after  the  war,  said  :  '*  Let  me  say,  too,  that  I  have  received 
the  strongest  memorials  of  kindness,  and  to  testify  my 
recognition  of  these  in  the  spirit  of  Christian  affection  and 
fellowship.  The  Freedmen's  Aid  Commission,  in  the 
Department  of  Domestic  Missions,  in  the  Church  of  the 
United  States,  is  now  in  active  operation.  Through  it  I 
have  received  communications  from  our  Northern  brethren 
in  the  spirit  of  Christian  kindness,  and  sympathy,  offering 
to  us  aid  and  cooperation  in  the  instruction,  both  literary 
and  religious,  of  the  freedmen  of  this  State." 

209 


2IO  Led  071  f 

The  education  of  the  freedmen,  and  their  instruction  in 
the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  Church  was  discussed  at  this 
convention,  and  resolutions  were  passed  advocating  the 
work.* 

The  Board  of  Missions  to  the  colored  people  elected 
were  Revs.  C.  C.  Pinckney,  C.  P.  Gadsden,  A.  T.  Porter  ; 
Geo  A.  Trenholm,  E.  I/.  Kerrison,  and  Thos.  W.  Porcher. 

Immediately  after  the  adjournment  of  the  convention, 
Mr.  Trenholm  and  myself  conferred  on  the  subject.  The 
resolutions  sounded  well,  but  were  worthless  without 
action.  We  therefore  set  out  to  look  for  a  building,  to 
establish  a  colored  school.  Mr.  Trenholm  thought  it 
would  do  harm  to  select  any  inferior  or  obscure  building, 
and  we  settled  on  the  Marine  Hospital  belonging  to  the 
United  States  Government  as  just  suitable.  The  place 
had  been  condemned  and  was  not  in  use.  How  to  get 
possession  of  it  was  the  question.  The  Bishop  had  his 
Diocesan  Theological  Seminary  very  much  in  his  heart, 
and  had  said  much  about  it  in  his  address  ;  he  wished  to 
revive  it,  so  one  night  after  the  convention  had  adjourned, 
he  said,  "  Porter,  this  diocese,  unaided,  cannot  restore  the 
Seminary,  or  open  a  school  for  colored  children,  and  some 
one  must  go  North  to  raise  money.  I  am  blind,  and  I 
cannot  go,  and  you  are  the  man,  and  I  am  going  to  send 
you. ' ' 

I  refused  at  once.  "  Why,"  I  said,  "  Bishop,  I  do  not 
know  a  single  person  at  the  North,  and  I  do  not  know 
how  to  go  about  it." 

*  *  Nevertheless, ' '  he  said,  ' '  go  you  must,  as  soon  as  the 
spring  sets  in." 

He  was  positive,  and  I  yielded.  The  Bishop  went 
home,  and  I  was  left  to  prepare  for  my  mission. 

On  the  4th  of  April,  1866,  I  sailed  in  the  steamer  for 
New  York.     I  had  left  green  peas  in  my  garden  at  home, 

*  See  Appendix  B. 


Warm  Northern  Friends.  2 1 1 


but  when  we  arrived  late  on  Saturday  night,  and  had  put 
up  at  the  New  York  Hotel,  April  6th,  I  found  myself  in 
the  midst  of  a  snowstorm.  I  knew  nothing  of  New  York, 
and  on  inquiring  for  a  church  to  go  to,  was  advised  to  go 
round  to  University  Place,  where  there  was  a  service  held 
by  some  Episcopal  congregation  temporarily.  It  was  a 
dreary  day,  and  a  drearj^  service,  and  very  poor  preach- 
ing. I  forget  what  congregation  it  was,  and  who  was  the 
preacher.  I  had  not  been  in  New  York  since  I  was  a  boy 
of  thirteen,  when  Canal  Street  was  high  uptown.  On 
Monday,  New  York  turned  out,  and  as  I  stood  in  the 
hotel  door,  I  was  bewildered  with  the  throngs  of  people 
going  up  and  down.  I  stood  a  long  while,  not  knowing 
what  to  do  at  first,  nor  where  to  go.  I  thought  I  was  a 
fool,  on  a  fool's  errand.  How  could  I  ever  get  a  hearing 
from  these  people  ?  I  had  my  credentials,  and  my  churchly 
instincts  told  me  I  should  first  present  them  to  the  Bishop 
of  New  York,  Doctor  Horatio  Potter.  The  Bishop  re- 
ceived me  courteously,  heard  my  stor}^,  gav^e  his  sanction 
to  my  efforts,  and  gave  me  a  letter  to  Rev.  Dr.  Benj.  T. 
Haight,  of  Trinity  Parish.  The  Doctor  was  cordial,  but 
I  went  back  to  the  hotel  no  further  advanced  than  when 
I  left  in  the  morning. 

And  so  each  day  passed.  I  was  miserable,  and  felt  that 
I  was  unfit  for  the  mission  committed  to  me.  I  was  nearly 
returning  home.  Up  to  Friday  morning  I  had  made  no 
acquaintance,  and  of  course  no  advance.  It  occurred  to 
me  that  I  would  go  to  the  Bible  House,  where  the  Protes- 
tant Episcopal  Board  of  Missions  had  their  rooms.  I 
went  there,  and  the  first  person  I  met  was  the  Rev.  A.  T. 
Twing,  the  General  Secretary,  a  large,  stout  man,  with  a 
bright,  cheerful  face.  I  had  to  introduce  myself,  tell  my 
mission,  and  show  my  credentials. 

I  was  listened  to  very  cordially,  and  words  of  encourage- 
ment were  spoken,  but  no  line  of  action  was  indicated, 


2 1 2  Led  On  ! 


until  I  said  I  was  an  entire  stranger,  knew  no  one,  that 
there  was  a  small  coal  of  love  in  m}^  own  heart,  and  I  hoped 
that  I  might  find  some  other  heart  where  there  was  a  like 
coal,  and  perhaps  the  Holy  Spirit  might  fan  the  two  into 
one  bright,  burning  flame. 

Doctor  Twing  opened  his  strong  arms,  and  throwing 
them  around  me  said,  ' '  You  blessed  rebel,  yes,  there  are 
plenty  of  coals  up  here  in  many  hearts,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit  will  flame  them  into  love  !  "  and  he  gave  me  a 
squeeze  that  nearly  took  my  breath  away.  He  said,  * '  I 
will  put  you  on  the  track,  and  if  on  one  line  we  do  not 
succeed,  we  will  try  another  until  we  do. ' '  He  wrote  a 
warm  letter  to  the  Rev.  A.  N.  I^ittlejohn,  D.D.,  then  rector 
of  Holy  Trinity,  Brooklyn. 

Take  this  right  away,  and  if  nothing  comes  of  it,  re- 
turn here." 

I  left  immediately,  feeling  that  I  was  at  length  started. 
I  went  over  to  Brooklyn,  and  was  relieved  to  find  the 
Doctor  at  home.  I  sent  in  my  card,  with  Doctor  Twing' s 
letter,  and  was  shown  into  the  drawing-room.  The  Doctor 
soon  entered,  stately  and  reserved,  but  courteous.  I  stated 
the  object  of  my  visit  and  the  Doctor  drew  me  out.  I  was 
the  first  Southern  clergyman  he  had  met  since  the  war, 
and  he  asked  me  many  questions.  As  our  conversation 
proceeded,  his  reserve  melted  away,  and  he  became  kind, 
sympathetic,  and  tender.  I  felt  the  tears  running  down 
my  cheeks,  and  said,  "  Doctor,  you  have  succeeded  in 
doing  what  Federal  bullets  never  did  ;  pardon  my  weak- 
ness, ' '  and  I  brushed  aside  the  tears.  Very  abruptly  the 
Doctor  got  up  and  left  me  in  the  drawing-room  alone, 
without  saying  a  word.  I  felt  the  awkwardness  of  my 
position,  and  was  about  to  beat  a  retreat,  when  the  Doctor 
returned  with  a  bottle  of  old  port  wine,  and  two  glasses, 
and  filling  them  said,  "  We  will  drink  a  glass  of  welcome 
to  you  and  wish  you  success.     Now,  where  are  you  stop- 


Warm  Northern  Friends.  213 


ping  ?     Go  and  get  your  luggage,  and  come  and  make 
this  house  your  headquarters. ' ' 

I  had  found  a  coal,  and  it  was  a  live  one.  I  soon  had 
my  trunk  at  the  parsonage.  We  went  into  his  study,  and 
he  gave  orders  that  he  was  not  to  be  interrupted  except 
for  some  urgent  call.  Neither  of  us  took  off  our  slippers 
until  we  went  to  dinner  that  evening.  He  told  me  that  I 
must  preach  the  next  da3^  Before  the  sermon  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  the  rector  stepped  forward  to  introduce  me. 
Never  was  a  brother  presented  more  favorably  or  lovingly. 
He  told  his  people  of  the  hours  we  had  spent  together,  and 
never  had  he  more  cheerfully  given  his  pulpit  to  anyone. 
I  was  quite  overcome  by  it,  but  in  a  moment  or  two,  there 
was  a  new  state  of  feeling,  for  numbers  of  the  congregation 
in  each  of  the  aisles  and  in  the  gallerj^  rose  to  leave  the 
church.  Quick  as  a  flash,  and  in  a  stentorian  voice,  the 
rector  directed  the  sexton  to  lock  the  doors,  and  then  I 
never  did  hear  such  a  rebuke  as  he  uttered.  Every  soul 
sat  down  at  once,  and  with  this  preparation,  I  ascended 
the  pulpit. 

I  knew  that  I  was  agitated ;  I  felt  that  I  was  pale ;  but 
after  an  earnest  prayer,  I  gathered  myself  together,  and 
in  a  steady  voice,  that  I  knew  penetrated  to  the  farthest 
point,  I  announced  my  text,  "  I  am  Joseph,  your  brother," 
paused,  and  gave  the  whole  text,  and  then  the  book, 
chapter,  and  verses.  The  effect  was  instantaneous.  I 
could  see  at  a  glance  that  I  had  riveted  the  attention  of 
every  person  in  that  congregation.  All  speakers  feel  when 
they  have  the  ear  of  their  audience.  I  felt  it,  and  it  re- 
assured me.  Everyone  knows  that  a  manuscript  read  is 
very  difierent  from  a  manuscript  preached  with  emphasis 
and  emotion,  and  as  I  went  on,  it  suddenly  struck  me, 
"  This  may  be  taken  for  more  than  I  mean," — when, 
leaving  the  manuscript,  I  said  :  "  My  brethren,  I  hope  you 
will  not  misunderstand  me.     I  would  not  have  you,  under 


2  14  Led  On  ! 

a  false  impression,  give  me  a  dollar  for  the  Theological 
Seminary,  or  for  the  colored  school  we  wish  to  open.  M\' 
s\-mpathies  were  all  with  my  people.  I  did  all  I  knew 
how  to  do  that  became  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  of  peace 
to  help  them,  but  when,  in  God's  pro\'idence.  we  laid 
down  our  arms,  we  did  so  in  good  faith,  and  all  wise  men 
among  us  are  making  not  only  the  most,  but  the  best  of 
our  condition."  I  then  resumed  my  manuscript,  and  did 
not  alter  a  word. 

The  ser\'ice  closed,  and  the  ofifering  was  made  ;  I 
had  never  seen  so  much  money  put  on  the  plates  before. 
When  we  went  into  the  vestry-room.  Doctor  Littlejohn 
did  not  say  a  word,  but  he  came  up  to  me,  and  folded  me 
in  his  arms,  and  I  have  never  forgotten  it.  We  had  not 
taken  off  our  vestments  before  the  vestry-room  was  literally 
packed  with  the  members  of  the  congregation,  men  and 
women.  I  was  greeted  with,  "  Your  text,  sir,  3'our  text, 
and  your  sermon  was  worth}'  of  it. "  I  had  to  go  into  the 
aisles  to  greet  the  people.  I  think  I  shook  hands  -^ith 
two  thirds  of  them.  It  was  a  long  time  before  we  could 
get  into  the  recton,-;  then  Doctor  Littlejohn  expressed  his 
gratification.  The  people  followed  us  there.  I  confess  it 
was  a  ven,'  happy  da}*  to  me.  The  offering,  with  what 
was  sent  in,  was  about  one  thousand  dollars. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards.  I  received  a  note  from  Mr.  A. 
A.  Low.  who  said  he  had  heard  of  the  sermon,  and  enclos- 
ing his  check  for  five  hundred  dollars.  He  stated  that  the 
rector  of  Grace  Church  would  call  on  me  with  the  request 
that  I  would  repeat  the  sermon  at  that  church  on  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday  ;  which  I  did  with  full  appreciation,  and 
great  success.  If  this  is  ever  read  b}'  anj'  Southerners, 
please  remember  that  this  was  in  April,  1866,  and  that  the 
sermon  preached  had  been  submitted  to  Mr.  George  A. 
Trenholm,  late  Secretary'  of  the  Confederate  Treasun-,  and 
had  received  his  commendation  and  approval.     It  was 


Warm  NortJicrn  Friends.  2 1 5 


preached  as  it  was  written,  and  contained  no  sentence  that 
compromised  me  or  the  South,  and  3-et  it  was  received  by 
my  Northern  brethren  in  the  manner  I  have  described. 

On  Wednesda}'  I  was  invited  to  a  reception  given  to 
me  by  Mr.  A.  A.  Low. 

There  was  a  large  assemblage,  and  among  them  there 
was  a  certain  guest,  who,  no  doubt  perceiving  his  ques- 
tions were  anno3'ing,  still  plied  them  vigorously,  until 
becoming  a  little  provoked,  I  said,  "  Well,  sir,  we 
Southerners  are  better  Union  men  than  you  are. ' ' 

' '  How  can  that  be  ?  "  he  asked. 

"We,  sir,  need  population,  and  money;  we  can  get 
neither  until  we  have  quiet,  protection,  and  peace.  We 
can  now  get  these  only  from  the  government  of  the  Union, 
and  therefore  that  government  is  a  necessity  to  us. ' ' 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  if  3'ou  are  such  good  Union  men,  how 
do  you  like  the  Freedmen's  Bureau  ?  " 

Well,  at  that  time  that  subject  w^as  like  a  red  rag  to  a 
mad  bull,  and  I  found  my  temper,  which  I  am  sorry  to 
sa}^  has  always  been  quick,  was  somewhat  getting  the 
better  of  me.  I  had  used  all  the  tact  and  skill  I  possessed 
to  avoid  unpleasantness,  but  the  true  inwardness  of  the 
man  was  now  revealed.  I  said,  "  Sir,  if  you  had  your 
study  in  your  place  of  worship,  and  found  out  that  your 
vestry,  or  deacons,  or  whatever  your  la}"  officials  are  called, 
had  bored  gimlet-holes  in  the  ceiling,  and  hid  themselves 
above  you  to  spy  on  you  while  in  your  study,  and  you 
were  to  find  it  out,  how  would  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  would  not  submit  to  it,"  he  said. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  that  is  just  what  we  think  of  the 
Freedmen's  Bureau,  and  we  w^ill  not  submit  to  it." 

With  this,  Mr.  Low  came  quite  hurriedly,  led  by  his 
youngest  son,  then  a  bo}^  now  the  distinguished  Seth 
Low,  LL.D.,  President  of  Columbia  University,  New 
York.     He  had  heard  the  conversation,  had  realized  its 


2 1 6  Led  On  ! 

import,  and  went  for  his  father,  whom  he  brought  up  to 
where  my  unkind  interlocutor  was  standing,  with  a  group 
around  us. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Porter, ' '  said  Mr.  Low,  ' '  to 
hear  of  the  annoyance  to  which  3^ou  have  been  subjected. 
I  invited  j^ou  to  have  a  pleasant  evening  ;  please  take  my 

arm  and  come  with  me,  but  let  me  say  to  Mr. that 

he  in  no  wise  represents  my  views. ' ' 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Low,  for  this  deliverance,"  I  said, 
taking  his  arm,  and  turning  away  with  him.  I  was  im- 
mediately surrounded  by  a  number  of  persons,  who  seemed 
to  vie  with  each  other  to  efface  the  impression  which  they 
saw  had  been  made.  While  thus  engaged,  I  saw  a  tall, 
military-looking  man  pushing  his  wa}^  towards  me. 
Someone  proposed  to  introduce  me,  but  he  came  forward 
and  extended  his  hand  saying  :  "  I  have  no  need  of  an  in- 
troduction, Mr.  Porter.  I  am  Captain  Worden,  who 
fought  the  Monitor  against  the  Merrimac  in  Hampton 
Roads.  Confound  that  fellow!  I  have  heard  what  has 
passed,  and  am  glad  to  see  the  man  has  left.  I  heard  you, 
sir,  on  Sunda}^  at  Holy  Trinit}-.  When  3^ou  announced 
your  text,  I  thought  it  was  the  happiest  selection  I  had 
ever  heard.  You  won  your  audience  as  you  uttered  it. 
And  as  yoM  went  on,  my  interest,  and  the  interest  of  the 
congregation  became  intense;  and  when  you  stopped,  and 
left  your  manuscript,  and  with  the  honest  frankness  of  a 
gentleman,  told  this  people  fearlessly  what  you  had  done, 
I  felt  as  if  I  could  walk  up  to  the  pulpit  and  grasp  your 
hand,  for  you  were  pale  and  excited,  and  as  you  raised 
your  hand  one  could  almost  see  through  it.  You  had  the 
marks  of  the  mighty  struggle  in  every  line  of  your  face, 
and  when  you  resumed  3^our  discourse,  I  drank  in  every 
word,  and  when  it  came  to  the  offering,  I  opened  my 
pocketbook  and  gave  you  its  entire  contents,  and  gladly 
would  wish  to  be  able  to  give  you  a  hundred  times  more. 


Warm  Northern  Frie^tds.  217 

There  are  two  classes  of  Southerners  for  whom  I  have  a 
profound  contempt — that  class  who  stayed  North  during 
the  war,  made  money,  enjoyed  themselves,  and  expended 
their  energies  in  abusing  the  North,  and  praising  the 
South  ;  for  them  I  have  a  contempt  that  they  did  not  go 
to  the  help  of  the  men  they  praised.  And  the  other  class 
are  those  who  come  up  here  now,  and  say  they  had  no 
sympath}^  with  the  South  and  they  did  nothing  to  help  in 
the  struggle.  Contemptible  blackguards  !  To  have  lived 
among  a  nation  of  heroes,  fighting  the  greatest  fight  in 
history,  against  such  tremendous  odds,  enduring,  suffer- 
ing, with  a  heroism  which  was  magnificent,  and  then  to 
sa}'  that  they  did  not  sympathize,  and  did  not  help.  Such 
fellows  would  be  dangerous  in  your  kitchen,  for  they 
would  steal  your  spoons.  I  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to 
go  South,  and  rebuild  every  house  that  was  destroyed; 
yes,  and  oh,  if  I  could  bring  back  to  life  all  who  were  killed 
on  either  side,  and  if  I  had  the  power  I  would  blot  out 
from  the  pages  of  history  the  record  that  the  war  had  ever 
been  fought !  ' ' 

I  have  quoted  Captain  Worden  accurately.  I  felt  I 
could  embrace  him,  and,  had  I  been  a  Frenchman,  would 
have  kissed  him  on  either  cheek. 

To  continue  my  account  of  Mr.  A.  A.  Low.  Later  in 
the  fall  I  said  to  him  :  "  I  own  a  house  in  Charleston  in  a 
prominent  part  of  the  city,  on  a  lot  one  hundred  and 
seventeen  by  two  hundred  feet.  On  it  is  a  large  building 
used  by  the  servants  ;  for  before  the  war  all  of  us  in  any 
position  had  around  us  a  swarm  of  people  as  old  family 
servants,  each  in  the  other's  way,  causing  a  constant 
drain  on  our  incomes,  but  no  one  thought  of  doing  with- 
out them.  Now  this  is  changed.  I  have  no  use  for  such 
a  building,  and  if  I  had  the  means  I  would  cut  the  build- 
ing in  half,  divide  the  lot,  and  make  two  additional  build- 
ings. ' '     I  then  told  Mr.  Low  that  I  wanted  five  thousand 


2i8  Led  On! 


dollars,  and  as  the  property  was  unencumbered,  I  offered 
to  mortgage  it  to  him.  Mr.  lyow  made  me  the  loan  and 
I  built  the  two  small  houses.  Mr.  Ivow  went  to  Europe, 
and  I  found  I  needed  fifteen  hundred  dollars  more,  for  I 
had  to  add  to  my  house  some  servants'  quarters  ;  his  son, 
Mr.  A.  A.  lyow,  Jr.,  loaned  that  to  me.  I  pledged  all  the 
rents  and  paid  off  the  loan  to  three  thousand  two  hundred 
dollars,  when  one  day  I  received  a  generous  letter  from 
Mr.  lyow  with  my  bond  returned  cancelled  and  the  mort- 
gage satisfied.     This  was  indeed  a  generous  gift. 

Many  years  after,  I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Low,  say- 
ing that  I  possessed  qualities  which  made  him  desirous 
that  I  should  move  to  Brooklyn,  and  if  I  would  come,  he 
would  let  me  select  the  style  of  architecture  and  would 
build  a  church  for  me,  and  I  could  name  my  own  salary, 
and  he  would  guarantee  the  same  to  me  for  my  lifetime. 
I  was  then  receiving  a  salary  of  eight  hundred  dollars  from 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion.  I  thanked  Mr. 
Low,  but  told  him  he  had  greatly  overestimated  me,  and 
declined  his  offer.  He  then  wrote,  if  I  would  come  he 
would  endow  my  school.  This  was  a  great  temptation. 
My  dear  wife  was  then  a  great  sufferer  ;  she  had  been 
paralyzed  some  time  before,  and  was  in  bed.  I  took  the 
letter  to  her  and  said,  '  *  Now,  wife,  what  must  I  do  ?  " 

The  gentleness  and  tenderness  of  that  dear  wife  never 
shone  out  more  brightly  than  that  day  ;  her  clearness  of 
vision  and  cool  calmness  of  judgment  never  left  her. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  do  you  believe  that  God  gave 
you  the  work  you  have  in  hand  ?  ' ' 

''  I  do,"  I  said. 

"  Has  He  blessed  it  and  made  it  successful  ?  " 

'  *  To  a  marvellous  extent, ' '  I  answered. 

"  Has  He  in  any  way  withdrawn  His  presence  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said,  *'  but  is  not  this  His  will,  that  the  work 
can  now  go  on  with  an  endowment  ?  ' ' 


Warm  Northern  Friends. 


219 


"  It  may  be,"  she  said,  "  but  is  it  not  true  that  you 
possess  the  power  of  acquiring  a  remarkable  influence 
over  boys,  that  you  have  their  confidence  as  very  few 
men  are  able  to  win  ?  Are  there  not  some  things  in  life 
more  valuable  than  money  ?  "  and  she  ceased. 

' '  Which  means, ' '  I  said,  ' '  you  think  I  had  better  stay 
where  I  am,  and  fight  the  great  fight  of  faith  where  God 
has  put  me." 

* '  I  do, "  she  said. 

I  went  down  to  my  study,  wrote  to  Mr.  Low,  thanking 
him,  but  telling  him  why  I  must  decline.  He  wrote  me 
oh,  how  kind  a  letter  !  and  said,  whenever  the  people  of 
Charleston  were  tired  of  me  the  offer  was  at  my  accept- 
ance. From  time  to  time  Mr.  Low  would  send  me  a  per- 
sonal check  for  my  private  use,  and  was  a  generous  annual 
contributor  to  my  work  to  the  last  year  of  his  life.  I  have 
his  likeness  framed,  and  keep  it  as  one  of  my  treasures. 
His  sons,  Mr.  A.  A.  Low,  Dr.  Seth  Low,  and  his  stepson, 
Mr.  W.  G.  Low,  have  continued  to  be  my  generous  friends 
up  to  the  present  time. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


MY  SCHOOI. 


/  plead  the  cause  of  South  Carolina  before  the  Gefieral 
Board  of  Missions,  New  York — "  The  most  eloquent  ap- 
peal ever  presented  to  the  Board  " — I  a77i  very  successful 
— /  open  in  Charleston  a  school  for  colored  childreji — Presi- 
dent fohisoji  assists  me  and  I  obtain  the  Marine  Hospital 
for  Tny  school. 

BISHOP  DAVIS  had  authorized  me  not  only  to  plead 
for  the  support  of  the  Theological  Seminary  and  the 
colored  school,  but  to  appear  before  the  General  Board  of 
Missions  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  to  lay  before  them 
the  condition  of  his  diocese.  Rev.  Dr.  lyittlejohn  arranged 
for  me  to  meet  the  Board  the  Friday  after  Mr.  I^ow's  re- 
ception, and  I  appeared  at  the  given  time.  I  remember 
as  present  Rev.  Dr.  A.  H.  Vinton,  Rev.  Dr.  Montgomery, 
I  think.  Rev.  Dr.  B.  T.  Haight,  Rev.  Dr.  I^ittlejohn,  Mr. 
John  David  Wolfe,  Mr.  Stuart  Brown.  There  were  others 
whose  names  have  escaped  my  memory.  They  received  me 
courteously  and  asked  me  to  state  my  case.  I  began  to 
tell  of  the  desolate  condition  of  the  Church,  when  it  rose 
up  in  my  mind  that  South  Carolina  had  been,  up  to  the 
war,  the  third  contributing  diocese  to  missions,  and  that 
now  prostrate,  she  was  asking  by  my  lips  that  she  should 

220 


My  School.  2  2 1 


be  aided.  I  became  very  much  agitated  and  said:  "  Gen- 
tlemen, the  vision  of  the  past  has  risen  before  me;  the 
present  overwhelms  me;  I  cannot  proceed,"  and  my  head 
fell  forward,  and  the  tears  rolled  down  my  cheeks. 

Doctor  Montgomery  rose  hastily,  and  came  forward, 
and  said,  "  You  need  say  no  more,"  and  he  took  my  hand 
and  pressed  it  warmly. 

Each  member  of  the  Board  did  the  same.  There  was 
not  a  diXy  eye  in  that  room.     It  was  in  1866. 

I  bowed  out  of  the  room,  and  soon  after  Doctor  Little- 
john  came  out,  and  told  me  they  had  voted  six  thousand 
dollars  a  year  to  this  Diocese  of  South  Carolina,  and  they 
paid  that  amount  for  several  years.  Doctor  Littlej ohn  told 
me  that  my  appeal  was  the  most  eloquent  ever  presented 
to  the  Board.  "  Oh !  "  I  said,  ' '  Doctor  Littlejohn,  I  could 
not  speak,  my  voice  failed  me  ;  my  heart  was  so  full." 

'  *  Yes, ' '  he  answered,  * '  and  you  filled  the  hearts  of  all 
the  Board  ;  you  had  no  need  for  speech." 

Soon  after  this  I  was  invited  to  go  to  Boston  to  address 
the  Convention  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church. 
Bishop  Eastburn  was  then  Bishop.  At  a  given  time  it 
was  moved  that  the  Convention  suspend  business,  and  that 
I  be  invited  to  address  the  Convention.  The  Bishop  hesi- 
tated, but  the  resolution  was  pressed  with  so  much  earnest- 
ness, that  it  passed  unanimously,  and  I  ascended  the  pulpit 
to  address  the  Convention  of  Massachusetts  upon  the  re- 
lation of  the  Church  in  South  Carolina  to  the  colored 
people.  When  the  invitation  was  given  I  had  prepared 
a  written  address,  which  I  duly  delivered.  On  its  com- 
pletion I  received  an  ovation,  and  I  heard  from  all  sides 
declarations  that  it  was  refreshing  to  hear  the  Southern 
side,  from  the  frank  mind  of  an  earnest  Southern  man.  I 
made  then  a  host  of  friends  who  stood  by  me  for  many  years 
afterwards.  On  my  return  to  New  York,  I  called  to  see 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Thos.  House  Taylor,  rector  of  Grace  Church. 


2  2  2  Led  On  I 

He  had  not  seen  me  since  I  was  an  infant,  but  he  recalled 
the  kindness  he  had  received  from  my  grandfather  and 
from  my  father.  His  own  father  had  died  and  had  been 
buried  from  my  father's  house.  He  remembered  he  had 
been  my  sponsor.  He  was  about  to  sail  for  Europe  and 
begged  me  to  take  his  pulpit  for  two  Sundays,  which  I 
did. 

After  finishing  my  engagement  at  Grace  Church,  I 
thought  the  time  had  come  for  me  to  give  up  my  efforts 
for  the  Theological  Seminar}^  for  I  found  it  did  not 
greatly  interest  the  people.  The  total  result  of  my  mis- 
sion was  sixty-six  thousand  dollars  for  missions  in  the 
diocese,  Theological  Seminary  and  colored  school.  This 
was  not  all  collected  at  once.  The  six  thousand  dollars 
a  year  was  continued  for  missions,  I  think,  for  six  j-ears  ; 
the  rest  was  for  the  Seminary  and  the  school.  I  then 
went  down  to  Washington,  and  called  on  General  O.  O. 
Howard,  who  was  very  glad  to  see  me.  He  was  at  the 
head  of  the  Freedmen's  Bureau.  I  showed  to  him  the 
resolutions  of  our  Diocesan  Convention,  and  told  him  of 
Mr.  Trenholm's  and  my  selection  of  the  Marine  Hospital, 
and  that  as  it  had  been  condemned,  and  we  wished  to  get 
the  government  to  sell  it,  that  I  had  nearly  five  thousand 
dollars  towards  its  purchase.  He  took  me  to  the  White 
House  to  see  President  Johnson,  introduced  me,  and  told 
the  President  my  object.  The  President  listened  very 
attentively,  and  turning  to  General  Howard,  said  :  *'  This 
is  the  pleasantest  thing  I  have  heard  from  the  South.  I 
told  you  so.  Let  these  gentlemen  alone  ;  they  will  do  the 
right  thing.  Yes  sir  ;  get  a  bill  through  Congress  author- 
izing the  sale  of  the  Marine  Hospital  and  I  will  sign  it." 
Then  taking  up  his  check-book  he  filled  out  a  check  for 
a  thousand  dollars  and  said,  "  That  is  my  subscription 
towards  its  purchase." 

General  Howard  undertook  to  frame  the  bill,  and  had  it 


My  School.  223 


passed.  The  President  signed  it,  and  the  building  was 
ordered  sold.  I  telegraphed  Mr.  John  Hanckel  to  buy  it 
for  me.  No  one  supposed  it  would  sell  for  more  than  our 
first  bid  of  one  thousand  dollars,  but  Mr.  Yates,  the  Sea- 
men's Chaplain,  who  was  very  much  disconcerted  at  the 
sale  of  the  Marine  Hospital,  bid  on  it  and  ran  it  up  to  nine 
thousand  eight  hundred  dollars.  Hanckel' s  mettle  was 
up,  however,  and  he  was  determined  to  have  it.  It  was 
knocked  down  to  him  for  me.  He  telegraphed  me  the 
amount  ;  I  was  staggered.  However,  I  went  to  General 
Howard,  and  told  him  the  situation,  and  somehow  between 
the  Freedman's  Bureau  and  the  Treasur}-,  they  arranged  it 
so  that  a  deed  of  gift  was  made  in  trust  to  me,  Mr.  George 
A.  Trenholm,  and  Mr.  Bennett,  a  colored  man.  The 
only  condition  they  added  was  that  there  should  be  no  re- 
striction to  anyone  in  using  the  advantages  of  the  institu- 
tion on  account  of  color,  race,  or  previous  condition,  the 
Board  to  be  self-perpetuating.  The  money  I  had  collected 
at  the  school  was  to  go  for  repairs  and  furniture. 

I  then  returned  to  New  York,  and  again  Doctor  Little- 
john  used  his  influence,  and  brought  me  before  the  Board 
of  what  was  called  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Commission 
to  the  Colored  People  of  the  South.  This  time  I  was  suc- 
cessful in  rousing  some  enthusiasm,  for  it  was  a  new  work, 
and  I  went  into  the  subject  inspired  by  my  success  in 
getting  the  building.  I  remember  how  I  was  plied  with 
questions,  and  how  I  answered  them  all  with  the  most 
direct  frankness.  Rev.  Dr.  A.  H.  Vinton  was  most  par- 
ticular in  his  interrogatories.  The  result  was  the  Board 
was  determined  we  should  have  six  thousand  dollars  a 
year  for  the  colored  school,  provided  that,  as  principal,  a 
white  man  from  the  North  should  have  charge.  To  this 
I  assented.  The  building  was  repaired,  the  furniture  was 
procured  and  the  school  was  opened  with  a  roll  of  eighteen 
hundred  colored  children.     I  selected  fifteen  Charleston 


2  24  Led  On  / 

ladies,  and  gave  them  five  hundred  dollars  apiece  salary 
and  kept  the  school  going  for  four  years,  when  the  facili- 
ties for  the  education  of  the  colored  children  in  Charleston 
exceeded  those  of  the  white,  under  the  city  common  school 
system,  and  as  the  interest  flagged  in  the  North,  the  ap- 
propriation fell  off,  and  I  turned  the  children  over  to  the 
city's  care.  Thus,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Bishop,  by 
virtue  of  the  resolutions  passed  in  the  Diocesan  Conven- 
tion, the  first  large  school  for  colored  children  opened 
solely  by  the  white  people  in  the  South,  was  here  in  the 
city  of  Charleston.  When  the  school  was  closed,  I  turned 
the  building  over  to  St.  Mark's  congregation  and  we  es- 
tablished a  library,  and  a  general  meeting-place  for  in- 
struction and  amusement,  which  was  kept  up  while  I  was 
rector  of  that  church,  but  fell  through  and  remained  idle 
until  1895,  when  a  Mr.  Jenkins,  a  colored  Baptist  preacher, 
through  the  intervention  of  several  of  my  white  friends, 
obtained  from  me,  the  sole  surviving  trustee,  a  temporary 
lease  for  a  colored  orphanage,  until  such  time  as  I  hoped 
the  city  would  take  the  matter  in  hand,  when  I  could  make 
such  disposition  to  them  as  the  trust  allows.  I  have  printed 
in  the  appendix  an  article  which  appeared  in  the  Messenger, 
on  October  19,  1896,  the  paper  of  the  colored  people, 
printed  at  the  Colored  Orphanage.* 

While  I  was  at  the  North  I  had  studied  the  papers  very 
carefully,  and,  as  the  result,  I  wrote  to  Mr.  George  A. 
Trenholm,  saying  I  was  sure  the  next  move  would  be  to 
give  the  ballot  to  the  negro,  and  I  begged  him  to  get  a 
dozen  leading  men  together,  and  create  a  public  sentiment 
on  the  subject.  It  would  be  well,  I  said,  if  the  negroes, 
when  they  could  read,  wTite,  and  cipher,  and  owned  five 
hundred  dollars  in  real  estate,  should  have  the  suffrage 
given  them  by  the  South.  This  arrangement  would  be 
an  incentive  to  education,  to  thrift,  and  to  economy.     If, 

*  See  Appendix  C. 


My  School. 


225 


on  the  other  hand,  they  received  the  suffrage  from  the 
North,  as  well  as  their  freedom,  it  would  involve  troubles 
innumerable.  If  we  moved  first,  it  would  forestall  hasty, 
ill-considered  action  on  the  part  of  the  North.  Mr. 
Trenholm  wrote  me  he  agreed  with  every  word,  but 
begged  me  to  be  very  careful  how  I  expressed  my  views.* 

^  During  my  visit  at  the  North,  and  in  the  course  of  all  the 
work  I  have  related,  some  caustic  critic  wrote  a  very  severe  article 
in  the  Charleston  paper,  attacking  me  for  all  the  work  I  was  doing 
at  the  North.  The  paper  was  sent  to  me,  and  being  of  course  very 
indignant,  I  wrote  a  reply  and  sent  it  to  Mr.  Trenholm,  whose 
cooler  judgment  withheld  it,  and  he  with  others  replied  to  my 
vituperator  and  quite  silenced  him.  I  never  found  out  the  name 
of  my  critic.  The  record  I  have  made  is  strictly  accurate,  and  the 
reader  can  judge  how  far  I  was  deserving  of  attack.  On  my  return 
South  I  paid  the  Bishop  $5500  for  the  Theological  Seminary,  which 
was  kept  open  as  long  as  the  fund  lasted,  and  was  then  closed.  I 
collected  for  purchase  and  repairs  of  Marine  Hospital  as  a  colored 
school,  I6300,  and  obtained  a  grant  of  |6ooo  a  year  for  four  years 
for  running  expenses,  and  |6ooo  a  year  for  six  years  for  Missions 
in  the  Diocese  of  South  Carolina.  It  does  not  strike  me,  looking 
back,  that  my  mission  to  the  North  was  an  unsuccessful  one. 
15 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  KIND   PRESIDENT 

How  I  obtai7ied  Mr.  Trenholm' s  Pardon 

PRESIDENT  ANDREW  JOHNSON,  having  required 
certain  persons  to  ask  for  a  pardon  before  they  could 
be  restored  to  citizenship,  and  their  property  recovered, 
none  of  the  Cabinet  officers  of  the  Confederate  States  had 
then  complied  with  his  conditions  and  been  pardoned. 
One  night,  therefore,  during  the  winter  of  1866,  being 
at  Mr.  Trenholm's  house,  I  said  to  him,  that  if  he  would 
ask  for  a  pardon,  I  was  sure  I  could  get  it  for  him. 

He  had  been  Secretary  of  the  Confederate  States.  Mr. 
Trenholm  flatly  refused  to  ask  for  a  pardon. 

"  I  have  done  nothing  of  which  I  am  ashamed,"  he 
said,  * '  and  have  committed  no  offence  for  which  to  ask  Mr. 
Johnson's  pardon.     I  will  not  do  it." 

* '  Well, ' '  I  said,  * '  will  you  write  me  a  letter  telling  me 
your  views,  as  to  what  the  duty  of  the  Southern  people  is, 
what  you  think  will  be,  and  what  ought  to  be,  the  course 
of  the  United  States  government  ?  ' ' 

"  That,"  he  said,  "  I  will  do  with  great  pleasure  ;  but 
I  do  not  know  of  what  avail  it  will  be. ' ' 

He  wrote  the  letter,  and  it  was  a  masterly  production, 
as  was  everything  from  his  pen.     Gen.   Daniel  Sickles 

226 


A  Kind  Presidejtt,  227 


was  then  in  command  of  Charleston.  He  was  not  popular 
with  our  citizens,  but  I  had  a  purpose,  so  I  called  on  him 
with  this  letter  of  Mr.  Trenholm's,  and  told  him  I  wished 
him  to  recommend  his  pardon,  which  was  essential  to  the 
welfare  of  the  city  and  State.  Men  like  Mr.  Trenholm 
should  be  able  to  resume  business. 

General  Sickles  read  the  letter  carefully,  commented  on 
its  strength  and  elegant  diction,  and  said  he  would  return 
it  to  me  the  next  day.  But  that  afternoon  he  sent  an 
orderly  on  horseback  with  a  note  to  me,  and  the  letter 
most  enthusiastically  endorsed.  I  went  to  Mr.  Tren- 
holm's house  that  night,  and  told  him  that  I  was  going  to 
the  North  the  next  day,  to  get  his  pardon.  I  did  not  tell 
him  of  General  Sickles' s  endorsement. 

When  I  reached  New  York,  I  went  to  Doctor  Little- 
john,  and  asked  him  to  sign  the  petition  for  Trenholm's 
pardon,  and  to  get  Mr.  A.  A.  I^ow  and  three  or  four  other 
Republican  gentlemen  of  influence  to  sign  it.  Doctor 
Littlejohn  kept  the  paper  two  or  three  daj^s,  and  returned 
it  to  me  signed,  with  his  name,  and  that  of  Mr.  lyow,  Mr. 
Pierrepont  Edwards,  Mr.  Cyrus  Curtis,  and  one  or  two 
others.  I  happened  to  see  in  the  morning's  paper  that 
Gen.  O.  O.  Howard  was  to  dine  that  day  at  five  o'clock 
with  Mr.  Chittenden  in  Brookljm.  I  went  over,  and  sent 
my  card  to  the  General,  and  he  came  down  at  once,  leaving 
the  dinner-table  to  meet  me.  I  apologized  for  the  intru- 
sion, but  asked  his  endorsement  of  this  paper. 

'*  I  am  always  glad  to  oblige  you,"  he  said,  and  after 
reading  the  paper  added  his  name  to  it.  Thus  fortified,  I 
took  the  evening  train  for  Washington. 

Next  morning  I  went  to  the  White  House,  and  in  the 
lobby  I  met  Mr.  J.  B.  Campbell,  a  prominent  lawyer  from 
Charleston. 

* '  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked.  '  *  Come  for  a 
pardon  ?  ' ' 


22  8  Led  On! 

No, ' '  I  said ;  '  *  I  am  too  insignificant  a  personage  to 
need  one.     I  have  come  to  get  Mr.  Trenholm's  pardon." 

'*  Go  home,"  he  said.  "  Your  attempt  is  a  waste  of 
time  ;  I  have  been  here  three  weeks  and  can't  get  it, "  and 
we  separated. 

The  President  was  not  approached  then  through  a  pri- 
vate secretary,  but  a  porter  at  the  door  let  in  the  callers. 
I  saw  this,  and  approached  the  man,  but  it  was  no  use. 
I  sat  by  him,  however,  and  set  about  to  ingratiate  myself 
with  him,  but  he  would  not  take  my  card  in.  At  dark  I 
went  to  the  hotel  to  eat  my  dinner.  I  had  not  tasted  a 
thing  all  day.  General  Howard  was  in  Brooklyn,  and  I 
knew  no  one  of  influence  in  Washington.  Next  day  I 
found  out  that  the  porter  was  fond  of  a  cigar,  so  I  gave 
him  one  after  another  of  some  fine  cigars  I  had,  and  by 
this  bribery  and  corruption  secured  his  promise  to  take 
in  my  card.  He  at  last  opened  the  door,  and  I  walked  in, 
but  there  were  a  dozen  persons  in  waiting,  and  one  by 
one  they  went  up  to  the  President.  The  President  was 
very  gruff  to  some.  Suddenly  Secretary  Stanton  came  in, 
and  he  and  the  President  went  off  into  an  adjoining  room. 
I  thought,  it  is  all  up  with  me  to-day  ;  all  the  other  visitors 
seemed  to  think  so,  too,  for  everyone  left,  and  I  was  left 
alone.  I  sat  on  the  sofa  and  waited.  There  was  loud 
and  stormy  talking  in  the  room  where  the  Secretary  and 
President  were,  and  presently  the  Secretary  passed  through 
the  room  with  flushed  face.  The  President  followed,  and 
seeing  me,  he  asked,  in  the  roughest  manner,  "  What  do 
you  want  ?  " 

*'  A  pardon,  Mr.  President." 

''For  whom?" 

"  For  Mr.  George  A.  Trenholm,  late  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury  of  the  Confederate  States. ' ' 

' '  Ah, ' '  he  said,  ' '  and  what  are  you  doing  with  such  a 
paper?  " 


A  Kmd  President.  229 

**  Mr.  Trenholm,  sir,"  I  answered,  "  has  been  as  a  father 
to  me,  and  I  am  his  pastor." 

"  Then,  sir,  you  are  the  proper  person  to  be  here  ;  but 
there  is  a  set  of  sharpers  who  are  making  money  out  of 
this  pardon  business.  I  have  just  recalled  eighteen  from 
South  Carolina,  which  I  find  were  costing  money  to  the 
pardoned.  I  mean  them  to  get  it  without  paying  for 
it." 

As  he  was  talking,  he  was  looking  over  the  paper  I  had 
handed  him,  and  his  eye  rested  on  General  Howard's 
name.  Looking  at  me,  he  said,  *  *  How  did  you  get  Gen- 
eral Howard's  name  on  this  paper  ?  " 

Knowing  that  a  man  who  has  given  his  check  for  one 
thousand  dollars  does  not  often  forget  it,  I  said:  "  Mr. 
President,  you  see  so  many  persons  you  have  forgotten 
me.  But  General  Howard  introduced  me  to  you  ;  you 
signed  the  bill  for  the  sale  of  the  Marine  Hospital,  and 
you  gave  me  your  check  for  one  thousand  dollars  towards 
its  furniture. ' ' 

His  manner  changed  in  an  instant.  He  extended  his 
hand,  and  said,  "  Call  in  the  morning  early."  Turning 
to  the  porter,  he  added,  "  Admit  this  gentleman  alone, 
and  the  first  one  in  the  morning. ' ' 

I  gave  the  man  at  the  door  a  tip,  and  went  away  quite 
delighted. 

I  was  at  the  President's  door  at  eight  a.m.  the  third 
day.  At  nine  I  was  admitted.  The  President  met  me 
very  cordially,  saying  :  "  I  must  apologize  to  you  for  my 
brusqueness  last  night.  I  had  not  had  a  glass  of  water 
all  da}^  I  was  tired  out,  and  had  just  held  an  unpleasant 
interview.  I  have  read  the  paper  and  have  signed  the 
pardon,  and  it  has  given  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  do 
so. ' '  He  then  called  his  son  Robert,  and  told  him  to  go 
with  me,  and  to  show  me  the  offices  in  rotation,  to  which 
I  was  to  go  with  the  paper,  which  the  President  wished 


230  Led  On! 


<< 


attended  to  at  once.  Notwithstanding  the  President's 
directions  to  his  son,  it  was  nearly  five  in  the  evening  be- 
fore I  got  the  last  signature  and  seal  on  the  pardon,  and  I 
walked  back  to  Willard's  Hotel  triumphant.*  I  told  Mr. 
Trenholm  before  leaving  I  would  not  communicate  with 
him  until  the  pardon  was  procured,  and  if  it  was,  I 
would  telegraph,  *  *  All  right. "  As  I  was  going  up  to  the 
telegraph  office  in  the  hotel,  I  again  met  Mr.  Campbell. 
'  *  You  still  here  ?  "  he  said. 

Yes,  but  I  am  going  home  to-night." 
I  told  you  it  was  a  waste  of  time  ;  you  can't  get  it." 
No,"    I   said  ;    "I  cannot  get   again  what   I   have 
already  obtained. ' ' 

**  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  said. 

"  I  mean  that  I  have  Mr.  Trenholm' s  pardon,  and  if 
you  do  not  believe  me,  suppose  you  look  at  it,"  and  I 
handed  him  the  document.  He  took  it  and  read  it,  folded 
it  up  and  returned  it  to  me,  and  said,  * '  How  did  you  get 
that?" 

I  replied  :  ' '  That,  sir,  is  my  business,  not  yours.  Cer- 
tainly by  no  aid  from  you. ' ' 

I  accordingly  telegraphed  Mr.  Trenholm,  and  left  for 
home  in  the  eleven  o'clock  train.  I  need  scarcely  say 
with  what  grateful  welcome  I  was  greeted  by  that  house- 
hold next  day. 

I  do  not  think  it  is  apparent  in  this  record  of  the  years 
'65,  '66,  or  '67,  that  I  was  carrying  the  burden  of  a  great 
sorrow.  The  death  of  our  son  had  thrown  a  shadow  over 
life's  pathway;  the  sunlight  did  not  seem  so  bright,  nor 
the  flowers  so  fair.  Very  few  were  the  days  or  nights, 
that  sometime  I  did  not  give  way,  but  never  before  any- 
one excepting  my  wife,  who  felt  as  keenly  as  I  did,  but 
Vas  braver  and  stronger  than  I  was.     Many  a  night  had 

*  Mr.  Trenholm's    letter  with  those    endorsements  is  in  the 
archives  of  the  government. 


A  Kind  President.  231 


she  heard  a  sob  from  the  depths  of  my  heart,  and  she 
would  gently  rebuke  me. 

' '  Husband,  is  that  right  ?  Are  you  not  afraid  that  you 
are  murmuring,  and  that  leads  to  rebellion  ?  ' ' 

"  No,  wife,  I  bow,  but  my  heart  seems  broken,  and  I 
cannot  help  it.  The  world  shall  not  see  my  grief,  and  I 
try  to  keep  it  from  you,  but  you  read  me  so  thoroughly 
that  I  cat!  hide  nothing  from  you."  I  believe  that  God's 
loving  providence  had  given  me  all  the  work  of  these  two 
years,  and  added  to  me  grace  and  strength  in  mercy  and 
love,  so  that  I  was  taken  out  of  myself. 

It  was  only  in  my  quiet  hours  that  the  realization  of 
our  loss  oppressed  me,  and  on  the  25th  of  October,  1867, 
about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  I  started  out  on  my 
usual  pilgrimage  to  his  grave.  It  was  a  fine,  bracing, 
autumnal  day,  and  too  early  for  frost  ;  everything  was 
green,  and  all  nature  was  beautiful.  Magnolia  Cemetery 
is  two  miles  from  Charleston,  and  as  I  walked  thither,  I 
had  not  the  faintest  conception  that  I  was  approaching 
the  crisis  of  my  life.  When  I  arrived  at  my  destination, 
as  there  was  no  other  person  in  the  cemetery  but  myself, 
I  knelt  on  the  grave,  and  prayed  for  absolute  submission, 
resignation,  and  comfort.  As  I  was  thus  kneeling  on  the 
mound,  my  head  buried  in  my  hands,  I  wept  bitterly;  how 
long  I  cannot  tell.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  voice  saying  to 
me,  in  distinct,  articulate  tones,  **  Stop  grieving  for  the 
dead,  and  do  something  for  the  living." 

I  say,  articulate  ;  for,  though  there  was  no  audible 
sound,  yet  I  heard  as  distinctly  as  if  someone  had  spoken, 
the  words  quoted — so  distinctly,  that  I  raised  my  head  to 
see  who  had  intruded  upon  the  privacy  of  my  grief.  No 
one  was  visible,  the  sun  was  shining  bright,  the  sky  was 
cloudless,  the  birds  were  singing  in  the  trees.  The  im- 
pression was  so  strong  that  I  had  been  spoken  to,  that  I 
said  aloud,  "  What  can  I  do  for  the  the  living  ?  "     Again 


232  Led  On  ! 


I  heard  the  same  voice  saying,  "  Your  child  is  enjoying 
what  you  are  only  hoping  for;  but  see  his  young  com- 
panions who  are  mostly  poor  orphans  without  churches 
or  schools.     Take  them  and  educate  them." 

**  Educate  other  people's  children,"  I  said  to  myself, 
'  *  when  I  scarcely  know  how  I  am  to  educate  my  own  ?  ' ' 

I  had  fifty  cents  in  my  pocket,  and  was  uncertain  where 
the  next  was  to  come  from,  but  I  became  conscious  of  an 
influence  upon  me  such  as  I  had  felt  once  before,  when  I 
passed  that  night  which  determined  me  to  give  m3^self  to 
God,  and  to  serve  in  the  ministry.  I  was  four  hours  at  that 
grave  alone  with  God,  for  I  have  not  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt  that  the  spiritual  world  had  enfolded  me,  and  as  I 
talked  aloud  I  seemed  to  be  answered,  and  heard  my 
child's  dying  words,  *'  O  Lord,  save  Thy  people,  and  bless 
Thine  heritage." 

The  warm  reception  I  had  lately  received  at  the  North, 
suggested  the  thought  that  if  they  had  so  readily  helped 
the  colored  school,  would  they  not  also  help  to  educate 
the  white  children  ? 

I  knelt  upon  my  child's  grave,  and  used  these  words, 
'*  Heavenly  Father,  if  this  is  from  Thee,  give  me  wisdom, 
give  me  zeal,  give  me  continuity  of  purpose,  and  open  the 
hearts  of  people  to  me,  and  I  will  do  it  ;  but  if  it  is  only  a 
fleeting  enthusiasm,  let  it  pass  away  as  a  morning  cloud, 
for  Jesus'  sake. ' ' 

Reader,  I  have  never  shed  a  tear  for  that  child  from  that 
day  to  this.  There  never  has  been  a  day  since  that  he 
has  not  been  in  my  thoughts,  but  the  glorious  work  that 
he  has  done  on  earth  by  his  prayers  in  Paradise  has  made 
me  look  upon  him  not  as  gone  but  as  waiting  for  me. 
The  sun  went  down  as  I  rose  from  my  knees,  and  I  could 
not  walk  fast  enough  to  get  home,  but  ran  a  great  part  of 
the  way. 

As  soon  as  I  reached  the  house,  I  lit  a  five-cent  tallow 


A  Kind  President.  233 


dip,  in  a  ten-cent  tin  candlestick,  and  took  it  into  my  un- 
furnished front  room  down-stairs.  I  then  called  my  wife. 
We  went  together  into  this  large  empty  room,  darkness 
made  visible  by  this  one  candle  on  the  mantlepiece,  and 
I  put  my  arm  around  her  waist,  and  told  her  what  had  oc- 
curred at  the  grave  of  our  child.  I  told  her  that  I  had 
never  thought  of  such  a  work  till  that  hour,  that  I  had 
no  training  to  keep  a  school,  and  no  money  to  begin  it 
with,  but  if  she  were  willing  to  give  up  the  rent  of  the 
house  in  Ashley  Street,  that  six  hundred  dollars  a  year 
would  be  a  start.  It  did  not  take  her  a  moment  to  decide. 
Throwing  her  arms  round  mj^  neck,  and  looking  up  into 
my  face,  she  said  :  "  If  God  has  given  you  a  work  to  do, 
go  and  do  it.  Certainly,  give  up  the  rent  of  the  house. 
I  never  expected,  as  your  wife,  to  have  to  do  this,  but  if 
you  will  go  in  debt,  and  furnish  the  chambers  that  the 
Freedmen's  Bureau  people  stripped,  we  will  take  boarders 
to  feed  us. ' ' 

'  *  But  you  cannot  do  it, "  I  said.  '  *  You  are  too  feeble  ; 
it  is  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  keep  you  alive  now." 

"  Am  I  not  your  wife  ?  "  she  answered.  "  You  will  re- 
quire strength  to  do  your  part,  and  cannot  God  give  me 
strength  to  do  mine  ?  ' '  We  both  sank  on  our  knees, 
consecrated  ourselves  to  our  work,  and  asked  God's  bless- 
ing. There  was  more  light  than  the  candle's  in  that 
room  ;  it  was  illumined  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  He  saw 
the  sacrifice  she  made  ;  it  was  all  the  living  we  had, 
and  he  accepted  it  ;  and  to  my  wife,  not  to  me,  the 
Church  and  the  State  are  indebted  for  all  the  glorious 
work  that  has  been  done  these  thirtj^  3^ears. 

I  sent  a  circular,  addressed  it  to  each  clergyman  in  the 
State,  and,  where  there  was  no  clergyman,  to  the  lead- 
ing layman,  asking  them  to  give  me  a  list,  first  of  orphans, 
of  widows'  sons,  of  motherless  boys,  or  of  boys  whose 
parents  were  alive,  but  unable  to  send  them  to  school.     I 


234  ^^^  ^^  ' 


then  notified  my  tenants  that  at  the  end  of  the  month  I 
would  need  the  house  in  Ashley  Street,  which  I  had  hither- 
to rented  at  fifty  dollars  a  month.  I  next  went  round  and 
begged  odds  and  ends  of  furniture,  crockery,  clothing,  and 
table-linen,  until  I  had  sufficient  to  begin  on.  I  told  Mrs. 
John  Bryan,  the  widow  of  my  old  friend,  I  would  need  a 
matron;  and  for  a  home  and  her  food,  but  no  salar}^,  she 
agreed  to  take  charge.  I  then  looked  around  for  a  princi- 
pal for  the  school,  and  selected  Mr.  John  Gadsden,  who 
had  a  school  of  a  few  boj^s  in  Summerville.  I  told  him  I 
could  not  guarantee  a  salary,  but  would  pay  him  as  soon 
as  I  could.  When  he  accepted  I  went  to  grocer,  baker, 
and  butcher,  and  told  them  I  had  paid  eight  thousand 
dollars  for  my  house  before  the  war,  and  I  could  probably 
sell  it  for  three  thousand,  now  that  my  wife  had  renounced 
her  dower,  and  if  I  found  I  was  running  in  debt,  I  would 
sell  the  house  and  pay  them.  Somehow  everyone  I  ap- 
proached seemed  to  catch  the  spirit  that  was  in  me,  and 
to  feel  they  must  help  a  thing  which  was  begun  in  so  re- 
markable a  manner. 

There  was  a  Federal  ofiicer  at  the  citadel,  who  heard 
of  my  intention  and  he  sent  me  word  that  there  were  one 
hundred  iron  bedsteads  at  the  citadel,  which  had  been 
condemned,  but  were  not  too  bad  to  be  used.  If  I  wanted 
them,  he  would  present  them  to  me.  Of  course  I  was 
grateful.  I  used  those  bedsteads  for  twenty-five  years, 
and  passed  them  over  to  the  colored  orphanage  at  the 
Marine  Hospital  last  year. 

In  the  meanwhile,  responses  to  my  circulars  literally 
poured  in  upon  me.  One  letter  was  particularly  touching. 
It  was  from  a  widow,  in  Walterborough,  South  Carolina, 
who  said  that  Sunday  as  it  was,  she  was  compelled  to 
write.  She  had  just  returned  from  church,  where  she 
heard  the  circular  read  by  the  rector.  Up  to  that  mo- 
ment,  the  cloud  that  overshadowed  her  had  been  im- 


A  Kind  President, 


235 


penetrable  ;  it  seemed  as  if  God  had  forgotten  her.  She 
appeared,  at  least,  forsaken ;  but  that  circular  had  opened 
the  cloud,  and  let  in  upon  her  a  ray  of  light,  which  had 
come  from  the  Throne  of  God  into  her  darkened  heart. 
She  had  a  fine  boy,  fifteen  years  old,  whom  his  father 
before  he  died  had  taken  through  Caesar,  but  now  his 
education  had  been  stopped,  and  there  had  been  no 
earthly  hope  for  him.  But  now  my  circular  had  changed 
all  this,  and  she  was  going  to  send  him  whether  I  would 
take  him  or  not. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

KDUCATlONAIv  NEEDS   OF  THE  SOUTH 

The  ravages  of  the  war  i7i  Soidhern  States  affected  the  cause 
of  education — This  was  especially  the  case  avi07ig  the  upper 
classes — I\fy  work  was  to  remedy  this  condition  of  thiyigs — 
/  open  a  day  school  for  ^2^  boys  and  12^  girls — My  board- 
ing school  accepts  jj  boys — /  advise  my  boarders  how  they 
should  behave — A  good  remedy  for  coarseness  and  obscenity 
— Mr.  lVilki?is  Glenn  of  Baltimore  assists  me. 

[DID  not  feel  that  my  mission  was  to  rescue  gamins,  who 
were  no  poorer  than  before  the  war,  but  the  entire 
wealth  of  the  State  had  been  swept  away,  and  all  schools 
existing  in  1861.  The  mere  youth,  the  seed  corn,  as  Mrs. 
Jefferson  Davis  called  them,  had  been  taken  into  the  army, 
and  for  four  years  had  not  been  at  school.  In  fact,  no 
schools  had  been  opened,  and  if  they  had  been  no  one  had 
money  to  pay  for  schooling.  The  wresting  of  our  slaves 
from  us,  involved  the  depreciation  of  our  land  ;  railroads 
had  been  destroyed,  banks  had  failed,  factories  we  had 
none  ;  insurance  companies  had  all  failed.  There  was, 
therefore,  no  source  of  income,  and  the  most  calamitous 
result  was  the  inability  to  educate  our  children.  I  aimed 
to  save  for  the  Church  and  the  country  at  large  the  repre- 

236 


Educatio7ial  Needs  of  the  South.  237 

sentative  families  of  the  State.  I  realized  tliat  the  youths 
from  the  army,  now  grown  to  be  men,  were  most  of  them 
descended  from  a  long  ancestry,  and  that  their  class  was 
in  danger  of  degeneracy,  through  illiteracy  or,  perhaps, 
obliteration.  I  admit  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an 
aristocracy  in  a  republic,  but  there  are  grades  of  society, 
and  unhappy  is  that  land  which  has  no  educated,  cultured 
class.  If  everything  is  on  a  low,  dead  level,  then  ignorance 
and  deterioration  are  inevitable,  and,  as  my  circular  said, 
I  was  prepared  to  give  the  preference  to  my  own  church 
people,  although  quite  ready  to  consider  applications  from 
any  Christian  denomination.  After  careful  selection  from 
among  the  older  boys  who  had  sent  in  applications,  I 
agreed  to  take  thirt3^-three,  as  soon  as  I  was  ready,  and 
among  them  the  widow's  son,  Josiah  B.  Perry.* 

I  began  at  once  making  arrangements  for  the  opening 
of  the  Home  for  the  country  bo3^s,  and  this  took  more 
time  than  it  takes  to  tell  about  it,  for  I  had  to  accommo- 
date the  thirty-three  boys  whom  I  had  consented  to  take. 
In  the  course  of  these  preparations  it  occurred  to  me  that 
I  might  utilize  the  schoolhouse  in  full,  and  add  a  day- 
school  which  would  oxAy  involve  additional  teachers.  I 
probably  could  procure  some  who  were  idle,  trusting  me 
to  pay  w^hen  I  could.  At  that  time  no  large  common 
school  for  whites  had  been  opened — the  common-school 
buildings  having  been  appropriated  by  the  Freedmen's 
Bureau,  and  several  large  schools  were  in  operation  for 
the  colored  children.  I  therefore  consulted  Mr.  Tren- 
holm,  and  he  urged  me  to  open  the  school,  which  I  ac- 
cordingly did.     Teachers  were  engaged  on  my  terms,  and 

*  He  was  fitted  for  college,  and  obtained  in  time  a  scholarship 
at  Trinity,  Hartford,  where  he  graduated  creditably.  Subsequently 
he  studied  law,  but  after  a  year  or  two  of  practice  took  Holy  Orders, 
and  is  now  the  successful  rector  of  St.  Andrew's  Church,  Washing- 
ton, D.  C. 


238  Led  On  / 

at  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion,  on  the  9th  day  of 
December,  1867,  after  a  full  service,  and  addresses  by 
Bishop  Davis  and  myself,  the  day-school  was  formally 
opened,  with  four  hundred  and  twenty-five  boys,  and  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  girls.  I  charged  fifty  cents  a 
month  for  tuition,  but  such  was  the  poverty  of  the  people, 
that  from  the  day-school  and  the  thirty-three  boys  in  the 
Home,  I  received  in  ten  months  just  three  hundred  and 
sixty-eight  dollars.  I  moreover  gave  out  eight  hundred 
dollars'  worth  of  books,  for  which  I  received  no  more 
than  one  hundred  dollars  in  return.  Scribner  &  Co.  sup- 
plied me,  and  generousl}^  made  the  school  a  present  of  the 
four  hundred  dollars  balance  which  the  school  owed  on 
this  amount.  On  the  21st  of  March,  1868,  the  first  boy 
came  to  the  Home,  the  orphan  son  of  highl}^  respectable 
parents,  a  child  who  gave  sad  evidence  of  the  degenerat- 
ing effects  of  poverty.  I  wondered  whether  his  was  the 
condition  to  which  all  our  country  boys  had  fallen.  I  had 
been  called  of  God  none  too  soon. 

Within  a  week  the  thirty-three  boys  were  all  in  the 
Home,  where  they  stayed  until  August.  When  the  first  five 
boys  arrived,  I  took  them  into  my  study  and  said  to  them  : 
* '  Now,  boys,  you  have  come  here  to  be  my  sons.  Your 
circumstances  are  such  that  j-ou  will  be  my  guests. 
There  is  no  money  to  be  made  out  of  you.  You  are  here 
to  study,  and  to  take  advantage  of  this  great  opportunity. 
Your  spiritual  mother,  the  Church,  has  opened  her  arms 
to  shelter  you,  and  to  lead  you  on  the  way  of  life. ' '  I 
charged  these  boj^s  never  to  allow  an3^thing  improper  or 
indecent  in  the  school.  I  told  them  I  expected  them  to 
attend  to  this. 

"  The  boy,"  I  added,  "  who  WTites  or  draws  anything 
improper  on  the  walls  needs  cleansing,  and  although  you 
cannot  make  him  clean  within,  you  can  externally.  Take 
every  such  boy,  therefore,  to  the  pump,  and  wash  him 


Educational  Needs  of  the  South.  239 

well.     When  I  hear  you  have  done  this,  I  will  dismiss 
him  from  the  school."  * 

The  school  was  opened  in  December,  but  up  to  the 
middle  of  March  in  the  following  3- ear  I  had  received  little 
or  no  money.  My  expenses  were  running  on,  and  no 
salaries  or  bills  had  been  paid.  Things  looked  desperate, 
but  neither  my  faith  nor  my  courage  failed  me.  The  firm 
conviction  that  God  had  given  me  this  work  sustained 
me,  and  how  much  I  bore  from  doubting,  discouraging 
friends  whose  want  of  sympathy  produced  want  of  confi- 
dence in  my  success,  only  God  knows.  How  many  earnest 
prayers  went  up  to  heaven,  how  many  sleepless  nights 
and  waking  hours  of  anxiety  were  passed,  only  He  can 
count  !  After  the  boys  had  all  come  to  the  Home,  and 
everything  was  organized,  I  felt  that  God  required  of  me 
to  make  personal  exertions  to  carry  out  His  will,  by  pro- 
viding material  means  for  this  important  work.  Not 
knowing  whither  I  should  go,  I  started  North,  my  ob- 
jective point  being  Baltimore,  where  I  knew  there  was 
great  interest  felt  in  the  South.  Although  I  knew  none 
of  the  clergy,  I  called  on  Rev.  Dr.  Milo  Mahom,  rector 
of  St.  Paul's  Church,  and  he  invited  me  to  stay  with  him. 
I  had  with  him  the  same  experience  I  had  with  Doctor 
Littlejohn  in  1866.  We  talked  till  the  early  hours  of  the 
morning.      What  a  glorious  man  he  was  !      He  had  a 

*  Some  years  after  this  Mr.  William  Cullen  Bryant,  while  visit- 
ing the  city,  called  on  me.  He  addressed  the  boys,  and  I  after- 
wards told  him  how  successful  I  had  been,  for  in  seven  years  I  had 
never  had  to  discharge  a  boy  for  obscenity.  Turning  to  the  boys  I 
asked  if  they  had  ever  ducked  any  one?  I  was  somewhat  taken 
aback  by  the  general  laugh  and  their  emphatic,  Yes  !  They  had,  it 
seemed,  ducked  three,  who  had  begged  so  hard  not  to  be  betrayed 
to  me,  as  they  would  then  have  to  leave,  and  had  promised  so 
earnestly  never  to  offend  so  again,  that  I  had  not  been  informed 
of  the  duckings.  There  was  a  general  laugh  at  my  expense,  but 
after  such  a  record  I  was  willing  to  endure  the  laugh. 


240  Led  On  I 


splendid  mind,  and  a  heart  surcharged  with  sympathy. 
He  wept  that  night  like  a  child  as  he  read  the  pathetic 
appeals  contained  in  the  letters  which  had  responded  to 
my  circular. 

* '  Now, ' '  he  said,  ' '  go  into  my  pulpit  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  tell  the  story  just  as  you  have  told  it  to  me." 

I  did  so.  I  will  never  forget  that  Sunday.  It  was  soon 
after  the  war,  and  all  hearts  there  were  tender  towards 
our  people,  and  South  Carolina  in  particular.  The  Spirit 
gave  me  utterance  on  that  occasion  ;  men  were  not  ashamed 
to  wipe  their  e3^es  and  many  women  sobbed.  It  had  not 
been  announced  that  there  was  to  be  a  collection,  but 
eight  hundred  dollars  were  found  in  the  plate,  and  checks 
came  next  day,  and  it  went  at  once  to  Charleston,  where 
it  caused  unspeakable  joy.  Mr.  Wilkins  Glenn,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  congregation,  then  owned  and  was  editor  of  the 
Baltimore  Gazette,  and  after  an  interview  with  me,  devoted 
several  columns,  day  after  day,  in  the  Gazette,  to  me  and 
my  cause,  and  proposed  to  form  an  association  to  assist  in 
carrying  on  the  work.  I  stayed  five  weeks  in  Baltimore, 
preaching  at  Emanuel  Church  and  St.  I^uke's,  and  ob- 
tained one  thousand  dollars  from  these  churches,  besides 
what  was  given  at  St.  Paul's.  Day  after  day  I  went 
through  the  snow  from  house  to  house — we  had  five 
snowstorms  during  my  stay — but  I  returned  to  Charleston 
with  sufl&cient  to  relieve  my  most  pressing  necessities. 

I  had  scarcely  reached  home  when  I  received  a  telegram 
from  Mr.  Glenn  requesting  me  to  return  to  Baltimore, 
which  I  did.  Mr.  Glenn  had  been  to  New  York  and  had  in- 
terested Hon.  Clarkson  N.  Potter,  Mr.  Charles  O'Connor, 
Mr.  WilHam  B.  Apppleton,  Mr.  J.  S.  Thayer,  Mr.  William 
B.  Duncan  and  others,  who  had  agreed  to  assist  in  placing 
me  on  a  firm  basis.  Mr.  Glenn  called  a  meeting  of  influen- 
tial gentlemen  in  Baltimore,  who  organized  a  society  with 
Mr.  Samuel  G.  Wyman  as  its  President,  and  this  society 


Educational  Needs  of  the  South.  241 

pledged  me  six  hundred  dollars  a  month,  for  three  years. 
I  started  back  for  Charleston,  but  was  stopped  in  Wash- 
ington by  Rev.  Dr.  Pinkney,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Mary- 
land. He  took  me  to  his  warm  heart  and  asked  me  to  tell 
my  story  to  his  people.  His  people,  he  told  to  show  their 
love  to  him,  by  listening  to  what  I  had  to  say,  responding 
to  the  extent  of  their  ability.  This  they  did  generously, 
and  I  thus  obtained  money  enough  to  pay  up  every  debt, 
and  to  carry  me  to  the  end  of  the  3^ear. 

The  pledge  of  the  society  organized  by  Mr.  Glenn  was 
fulfilled,  and  I  ended  the  first  year  out  of  debt,  having 
had  over  five  hundred  children  in  the  day-school  and 
thirty-three  living  in  the  Home.  These  latter  I  had  for 
the  most  part  clothed  as  well  as  fed  and  educated. 

There  is  a  record  of  thirty  years  still  of  this  biography, 
in  which  there  is  much  to  tell  of  the  wonderful  providence 
of  God,  His  Presence,  and  Hand  in  the  life  of  this  institu- 
tion. It  will  be  seen  how  He  has  used  one  means  after 
another  to  make  me  realize  that  His  hand  has  guided, 
His  voice  has  counselled.  Was  it  a  fanatical  dream  at  the 
grave  of  my  child  or  was  it  the  call  of  God  ?  I  went  to 
that  grave  without  one  thought  of  a  school,  surrounded 
as  I  was  by  desolate  poverty.  To  build  up  a  great  charit- 
able institution  then  and  there  seemed  as  preposterous  as 
to  project  a  great  cathedral  in  the  Desert  of  Sahara,  with- 
out one  co-operator,  and  with  no  materials.  Yet  the 
record  of  this  one  year  begins  a  series  of  events,  as  the 
story  will  unfold,  of  which  I  wish  to  take  a  reasonable 
view.  I  believe  in  the  miracles  recorded  in  Holy  Scrip- 
ture; I  believe  that  God  is  the  same  Being  now,  and  that 
if  each  man  would  ponder  His  paths  we  all  would  find 
miraculous  interpositions  in  our  behalf.  But  God  works 
by  human  means.  Through  a  series  of  years  and  events 
He  had  been  training  me  for  the   mission   of  my  life. 

When  the  time  had  come,  and  all  the  conditions  were 
16 


242 


Led  On  ! 


favorable,  He  gave  me  my  commission,  and  led  me  into 
the  positions  favorable  to  the  necessities  of  the  work,  and 
then  required  me  to  use  all  the  ability  with  which  He  had 
endowed  me.  He  required  me  to  work  as  though  it  all 
depended  on  me,  while  He  made  that  work  successful,  or 
thwarted  it,  as  in  His  wisdom  He  had  seen  best.  If  my 
experience  can  strengthen  one  failing  heart,  and  encour- 
age it  in  energy,  patience,  waiting,  endurance,  and  faith, 
this  narrative  will  not  be  written  in  vain.  If  I  can  make 
any  heart  realize  that  our  Father  is  not  far  off,  but  nigh, 
that  His  hand  is  stretched  out  still,  and  His  ear  open  to 
our  praj^ers,  if  I  have  comforted  some  soul,  and  helped 
someone  to  cling  closer  to  God,  I  shall  have  magnified  the 
grace  of  God,  and  this  will  be  my  exceeding  great  reward. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


( ( 


THE    lord's    box 


j> 


My  method  of  appealing  to  the  honor  of  boys— An  incident 
testifying  to  its  success  —  ''The  Lord's  box'' — fewels 
among  the  lowly — My  public  work  outside  of  the  school — 
My  ' '  Romish  ' '  teiidencies — A  very  practical  rebuke. 

THE  association  in  Baltimore,  through  Mr.  Glenn, 
continued  to  send  to  me,  each  month,  the  six  hun- 
dred dollars  promised,  but  it  was  not  near  enough  to  meet 
expenses,  and  I  therefore  went  on  in  November,  1868,  to 
New  York.  The  introductions  given  me  by  General 
Howard,  and  the  friends  I  had  made  in  1866,  assisted  me 
very  much.  While  in  New  York  I  saw  the  advertisement 
of  the  sale  of  a  building  in  the  rear  of  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Communion,  Charleston.  As  only  a  fence  divided 
the  yard  from  my  house,  which  held  but  thirty-three,  and 
as  the  terms  on  which  the  house  was  to  be  had  were  one 
third  cash,  and  the  balance  in  three  years,  I  prayerfully 
considered  the  purchase  of  it,  and  telegraphed  to  a  friend 
to  buy  the  house,  if  it  did  not  exceed  five  thousand  dollars. 
I  did  not  have  a  cent  when  I  received  a  telegram  to  the 
effect  that  the  house  had  been  purchased  in  my  name  for 
five  thousand  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  I  must 
pay  seventeen  hundred  dollars  as  soon  as  the  papers  were 
made  out.     I  went  round  at  once  to  see  my  dear  friend, 

243 


244  ^^^  ^^ ' 


Mr.  John  David  Wolfe,  and  told  him  all  my  plans.  He 
was  a  man  whose  ear  was  ever  open  to  every  story  of 
work  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  men.  He 
scattered  of  his  abundance  through  the  land,  and  though 
dead,  he  yet  liveth  in  the  institutions  he  fostered  and 
founded.  After  patiently  hearing  my  story,  he  said, 
"  You  are  as  bad  as  the  bishops, — a  regular  stand-and-de- 
liver  man." 

Then,  turning  to  his  desk,  he  wrote  a  check  for  one 
thousand  dollars,  and  said,  * '  If  you  are  good  for  anything, 
you  can  soon  raise  the  other  seven  hundred  dollars.  Go 
and  see  Stuart  Brown  and  Mr.  Aspinwall,  and  if  they 
do  not  help  you,  come  back  to  me." 

The  seven  hundred  dollars  was  collected  that  day,  and 
the  amount  was  remitted  to  Charleston,  and  by  the  time 
the  rest  was  due,  it  was  all  paid  by  the  generosity  of  my 
Northern  friends.  Mr.  Wolfe  continued  to  be  my  gener- 
ous friend,  and  gave  one  thousand  dollars  every  year,  until 
he  died,  and  after  his  death  his  daughter.  Miss  Catherine 
ly.  Wolfe,  continued  her  father's  subscription  until  she 
died.     How  I  have  missed  them  ! 

I  was  spending  an  evening  at  Mr.  Wolfe's,  and  an  old 
lady  was  there,  Mrs.  Spencer.  I  did  not  know  at  the 
time  she  was  his  sister.  Mr.  Wolfe  told  her  all  about  me, 
from  his  first  acquaintance,  when  he  found  me  at  the 
meeting  of  the  Board  of  Missions  in  1866,  and  he  enlarged 
on  my  present  work.  Mrs.  Spencer  asked  me  if  this  was 
something  that  was  to  be,  or  if  it  was  now  in  existence. 
Of  course  I  told  her  it  was  now  in  being.  She  then  left 
the  room,  and  when  she  was  going  away  from  the  house, 
she  handed  me  an  envelope.  In  it  was  a  check  for  five 
hundred  dollars,  which  she  renewed  yearly  until  she  died. 

When  I  began  the  vSchool,  I  placed  my  boys  on  their 
honor,  and  told  them  that  there  would  be  no  espionage, 
and  in  thirty  years,  having  had  over  three  thousand  under 


"  The  Lord's  Box!'  245 


my  charge,  I  have  seldom  known  my  confidence  abused. 
The  following  incident  is  illustrative  of  the  tone  of  the  in- 
stitution : 

Two  of  my  oldest  boys  had  been  given  tickets  to  go  to 
the  theatre,  and  the  principal  permitted  them  to  go  and 
waited  for  their  return.  When  they  came  in  they  were 
under  the  influence  of  liquor.  This  was  on  Friday  night, 
and  on  Monday  Mr.  Gadsden  told  me  of  it.  I  said  he 
must  leave  the  matter  to  me  to  manage,  and  during  the 
day  I  stayed  about  the  premises,  treating  those  young 
men  as  if  I  were  not  cognizant  of  their  misdemeanor.  On 
Tuesday  morning  after  service,  these  two  boys  came  to 
me  in  the  vestry-room,  and  under  great  embarrassment 
stated  the  case.  The  night  was  very  cold,  they  said,  and 
they  had  gone  into  a  saloon,  and  each  had  taken  one 
drink,  and  being  unaccustomed  to  the  use  of  ardent 
spirits,  they  had  been  overcome.  They  said  they  did  not 
feel  at  their  age  (one  was  nineteen  and  the  other  twenty) 
they  had  done  so  great  a  wrong  in  taking  a  drink.  The 
wrong  was  going  to  a  bar-room  at  all  ;  it  was  a  breach  of 
confidence.  This  was  their  error,  and  they  feared  they  had 
lost  my  respect,  and  they  were  willing,  they  said,  to  sub- 
mit to  any  punishment  I  was  prepared  to  inflict.  They 
implored  me  not  to  expel  them.  I  asked  them  if  this  con- 
fession was  of  their  own  volition.  They  replied,  ''En- 
tirely. ' '  I  asked  if  the  offence  would  be  repeated  by  them. 
"  Never,"  they  answered,  '*  while  we  continue  under  your 
charge." 

Then  I  said,  *'  Young  men,  your  offence  is  as  fully  for- 
given as  it  is  freely  confessed  ;  I  will  never  refer  to  it 
to  you  again." 

They  pressed  my  hand  ;  the  big  tears  rolled  down  their 
cheeks  ;  their  hearts  were  too  full  for  words  ;  everything 
was  gained,  and  until  they  finished  at  the  school  those 
young  men  were  patterns.     I  think  that  is  the  way  our 


246  Led  On  / 


Father  forgives  sinners.  In  after  years  one  of  these 
young  men  came  to  see  me,  and,  referring  to  this  circum- 
stance, said  it  was  the  turning-point  of  his  life.  Had  I 
thrashed  them,  he  said,  they  would  have  submitted,  but 
probably  would  have  despised  me,  but  when  I  forgave 
them  they  loved  me,  and  would  on  no  account  have  again 
displeased  me. 

Two  other  incidents  are  worthy  of  note,  and  may  be  of 
use.  I  had  preached  one  Sunday  at  Emanuel  Church,  Bal- 
timore, and  on  the  Thursday  after  my  sermon,  the  rector, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Randolph,  now  Bishop  of  Southern  Virginia, 
brought  me  six  hundred  and  five  dollars,  saying,  "  My 
brother,  you  will  be  thankful  for  these  six  hundred  dol- 
lars, but  here  is  a  check  for  one  hundred  dollars  which 
might  have  been  one  thousand  dollars  without  incon- 
venience to  the  giver. ' '  Then  he  ran  over  the  different 
amounts  from  various  parties,  and  when  he  came  to  the 
five  dollar  bill,  he  said,  ' '  This  is  the  most  precious  of  all  ; 
it  is  the  gift  of  a  white  washerwoman."  He  had  remon- 
strated with  her  saying,  she  could  not  afford  to  give  this 
much,  but  she  replied,  "  It  is  the  Lord's,  not  mine." 

She  had  then  told  her  pastor,  "  As  the  gentleman 
preached,  she  became  interested,  and  said,  *  I  will  give 
him  all  that  is  in  the  Lord's  box.'  " 

It  seems  she  had  a  box,  which  she  called  "  the  Lord's 
box, ' '  in  which  she  deposited  a  certain  percentage  of  her 
gross  daily  earnings.  As  I  went  on,  she  added  to  her 
mental  offering  the  receipts  of  the  next  three  days  ;  she 
made  three  dollars,  she  found  two  dollars  in  "  the  Lord's 
box, ' '  so  added  the  two  sums  ;  she  brought  the  five  dol- 
lars as  her  gift  to  the  Orphans'  Home.  I  asked  to  be  per- 
mitted to  call  on  this  woman,  but  the  rector  said  she  would 
be  hurt  if  she  thought  I  had  heard  this  story.  Some  six 
years  after  this,  I  had  preached  at  St.  Peter's,  Eaton 
Square,  London,  of  which  Canon  Wilkinson  was  the  vicar. 


*'  The  Lord's  Box!'  247 


Next  day  I  was  to  dine  at  Brighton,  and  at  the  door  I 
met  a  gentleman  who  was  also  to  be  a  guest.  He  intro- 
duced himself,  and  said,  "  I  heard  your  story  last  Sunday, 
and  gave  you  all  that  was  in  "  the  I^ord's  box  "  and  here 
is  five  pounds." 

I  asked  him  what  he  meant  by  "  the  Lord's  box,"  and 
he  gave  me  an  account  of  his  rule  of  life.  It  was  the 
same  as  that  of  the  Baltimore  washerwoman.  He  was  a 
dentist,  and  put  a  percentage  of  his  gross  receipts  in  "  the 
Lord's  box, ' '  and  always  had  something  to  give.  If  every 
churchman  did  the  same,  how  abundant  would  the  treas- 
ure be  at  the  Church's  command. 

Another  incident  in  a  different  sphere  of  life.  I  once 
preached  in  Grace  Church,  Newark,  New  Jersey,  of  which 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Hodges  was  rector.  The  next  morning  the 
friend  with  whom  I  was  staying  came  into  the  rector's 
study,  where  I  was,  and,  taking  both  my  hands  in  his, 
said  :  "  I  thank  you  for  coming  here  ;  you  have  helped  to 
form  the  character  of  my  child.  It  is  my  custom  when 
my  daughters  are  seventeen  to  give  them  a  watch,  and  at 
eighteen  add  a  chain  and  such  trinkets  as  they  wish.  My 
daughter  reached  eighteen  last  week,  and  I  had  told  her 
to  go  to  Tiffany  and  get  whatever  she  wished.  Last 
night  she  was  much  moved  by  your  sermon,  and  begged 
me  to  give  to  you  the  amount  her  chain  and  trinkets 
would  cost  ;  but  I  refused.  I  feared  it  was  a  sudden  im- 
pulse and  that  she  might  regret  it.  I  told  her  to  sleep  on 
it,  and  see  how  she  felt  next  day. ' '  She  had  done  so,  but 
she  had  just  come  to  him  and  said,  "  Do,  Father,  give  Mr. 
Porter  the  full  amount,  and  make  it  a  great  deal  more." 

He  cautioned  her  that  he  would  not  give  her  the  usual 
gift  that  5'ear,  if  she  thus  gave  it  to  me.  She  persisted, 
and  her  father  did  give  me  the  amount  and  much  more. 

To  anticipate.  In  1874,  I  preached  in  the  same  church. 
The  congregation  was  large,  and  after  service  I  received 


248  Led  On  ! 


words  of  appreciation  and  S3^mpatliy  from  very  many,  but 
that  did  not  go  far  towards  feeding  a  hundred  hungry 
boys,  and  paying  for  educating  five  hundred.  The  rector 
gave  me  fifty  dollars,  his  wife  gave  me  a  marriage  fee 
of  ten,  a  Presbyterian  lady  sent  me  fifty,  and  a  Southern 
woman  from  Georgia,  who  happened  to  be  present,  sent 
me  twenty.  Nothing  else  came  from  that  large  congre- 
gation in  the  way  of  substantial  help  ;  but  next  day,  when 
I  was  leaving,  a  colored  servant  girl,  who  had  come  from 
Augusta,  Georgia,  with  her  former  owners,  followed  me 
to  the  door,  and  slipped  into  my  hand  an  envelope.  "  I 
do  not  look  for  aid  from  you, ' '  I  said.  She  replied  :  *  *  May 
I  not  do  a  little  for  your  cause  ?  I  love  those  Southern 
people  ;  they  were  good  and  kind  to  me. ' ' 

Of  course  I  did  not  rebuff  her,  but  took  the  envelope, 
which  contained  a  five  dollar  bill,  rolled  round  a  slip  of 
paper,  on  which  was  written  by  herself : 

*'  We  give  Thee  but  Thine  own, 
What  e'er  the  gift  may  be  ; 
All  that  we  have  is  Thine  alone, 
A  trust,  O  lyord,  from  Thee. 

*'  May  we  Thy  bounties  thus, 
As  stewards  true  receive  ; 
And  gladly  as  Thou  blessest  us, 
To  Thee  our  first  fruits  give." 

Of  all  that  congregation,  only  that  humble  servant  was 
found  to  show  her  faith  by  her  works.  I  believe  that  act 
has  been  written  in  a  more  important  book  than  this. 
Christ's  jewels  are  often  among  the  lowly  ;  let  us  not 
despise  a  brother  or  sister  of  low  degree. 

In  the  year  1869,  I  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Standing 
Committee  of  the  Diocese  of  South  Carolina,  and  have 
been  reelected  every  j^ear  since  (this  is  now"  1897),  with  the 
exception  of  three  years,  1886  to  1889,  during  the  intense 


The  Lo7^d's  Box!'  249 


excitement  in  the  diocese  on  the  subject  of  the  colored 
question,  the  position  I  had  taken  rendering  me  unpopu- 
lar with  the  laity. 

I  was  elected  in  1870  as  a  deputy  to  the  General  Con- 
vention, and  have  been  elected  to  every  succeeding  con- 
vention save  the  one  held  in  Chicago  ;  I  was  still  under 
the  ban,  but  by  1889,  the  second  solemn  thought  of  the 
laity  reversed  it  all,  and  since,  some  of  those  who  were 
most  opposed  to  me  have  become  my  warm  friends. 

I  was  elected  in  1868  a  trustee  of  the  University  of  the 
South,  and  continued  to  be  until  1886,  when  I  declined  a 
reelection.  I  recall  these  facts  only  to  show  that  the 
school  which  took  up  so  much  time  did  not  withdraw  me 
from  the  duties  of  the  Church.  I  could  write  a  long 
account  of  the  condition  and  struggles  of  the  early  history 
of  the  University  of  the  South  ;  what  a  very  inefficient 
grammar  school  it  was,  and  how,  by  the  untiring  efforts 
of  Bishop  Quintard,  it  was  brought  into  new  life. 

The  University  of  the  South  looms  up  now,  in  ever 
greater  and  grander  proportions,  the  product  of  as  much 
self-sacrifice,  zeal,  energy,  and  perseverance,  as  was  ever 
spent  on  any  human  work. 

My  report  to  our  Convention  of  1869,  says  :  "  There  are 
eighteen  or  twenty  pupils  there.  Commander  Maury 
declined  the  Vice-Chancellorship.  General  Gorgas  was 
elected  Vice-Chancellor.  It  is  the  day  of  small  things  with 
the  Board,  the  grand  designs  of  its  projectors  having  faded 
into  the  distant  future  ;  the  heavy  shadow  which  has 
fallen  on  all  things  pertaining  to  the  South  has  not  left 
this  out  in  the  sunlight  of  prosperity  ;  but  a  great  idea 
never  dies.  This  generation  may  only  see  the  germ  ; 
coming  ages  we  trust  will  enjoy  the  blessings  of  the  great 
thoughts,  and  high  hopes,  and  zealous  labors,  of  these 
masters  in  Israel,  Bishops  Polk  and  Elliott,  and  Otey  and 
Cobb."     Thus  I  wrote  in  1869.     There  are  bishops  in  the 


250  Led  On  f 


Church  who  have  graduated  there  since  ;  so  that  my 
prophecy  has  already  been  fulfilled.  By  referring  to  my 
parish  register,  I  find  that  this  busy  year  with  the  school 
was  not  an  idle  one  in  my  parish.  There  were  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty-seven  communicants,  thirtj^-eight  bap- 
tisms, twenty  confirmed,  and  that  the  parish  contributed 
$6661  to  church  purposes.  My  salary,  which  had  been  a 
trifle  in  '67,  was  $1200  in  '69.  One  Sunday  in  November  I 
said  to  the  congregation,  that  the  hope  I  had  of  building 
a  new  church  had  perished,  but  that  I  greatly  desired  to 
improve  the  present  church,  and  make  room  to  bring  my 
boys  from  the  gallery  on  to  the  floor  of  the  church.  The 
next  morning,  before  I  had  left  my  chamber,  an  architect 
and  builder  was  sent  to  me  by  Mr.  Theodore  Wagner  to 
find  out  what  I  wished  to  have  done.  Mr.  Wagner  prom- 
ised that  if  my  alterations  were  within  bounds  they  should 
be  made.  Accordingly,  we  had  the  rear  wall  taken  down, 
a  recess  made  sixteen  by  thirty-five,  to  be  used  for  the 
present  as  a  chancel,  and  an  organ  chamber  built  for  a 
new  organ.  The  cost  was  three  thousand  eight  hundred 
dollars,  and  Mr.  Wagner  paid  for  it.  The  vestry  then 
sold  the  lot  in  Rutledge  Avenue,  that  Mr.  Trenholm  had 
given  for  a  new  church,  for  the  sum  of  three  thousand 
dollars,  and  with  this  they  took  down  the  galleries  and 
altered  the  roof  of  the  church,  adding  twenty-five  pews. 
Mr.  John  Hanckel  presented  a  handsome  stained-glass 
window.  A  marble  altar  and  font  were  also  presented 
with  other  chancel  furniture.  The  vestry  sold  the  old 
organ  for  six  hundred  dollars,  and  bought  a  new  one  for 
three  thousand  two  hundred  dollars,  for  which  they  bor- 
rowed the  monej\  I  think,  considering  this  was  four 
years  after  our  terrible  war,  that  it  indicated  much  life 
and  activity  in  the  parish.  About  this  time  I  discon- 
tinued the  black  gown  to  preach  in.  I  had  the  pews 
arranged  for  the  people  to  kneel  toward  the  altar,  and 


^^  The  Lord's  Boxy  251 

not  turn  round  towards  the  front  door,  as  they  had  been 
doing.  I  induced  them  to  rise  at  the  ofifertory,  and  intro- 
duced a  change  of  colors  in  the  hangings. 

Captain  Ramsey,  of  the  United  States  army,  who  was 
in  command  of  the  arsenal,  I  had  induced  the  congrega- 
tion to  elect  as  a  vestryman.  He  lost  an  only  child,  and 
asked  that  he  might  place  a  memorial  marble  cross  on  the 
super-altar,  which  I  put  there  quietly.  It  was  the  first, 
as  were  all  these  developments,  in  this  diocese.  One  of 
my  parishioners,  who  was  really  a  Congregatioualist,  from 
which  denomination  he  had  come  to  the  Church,  was  at 
service  one  day,  and  found  fault  with  all  that  we  were 
doing  as  Romish. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "point  out  the  marks."  He  men- 
tioned the  organ  put  by  the  chancel,  the  pews  fixed  so 
that  people  must  kneel  forward,  the  marble  altar,  etc. 
Finally  he  said,  *  *  Your  dress  shows  your  tendency. ' '  (I 
had  on  a  clerical  coat  and  collar.) 

"Well,"  I  said,  "how  much  are  you  giving  for  all 
these  changes  ? ' ' 

*  *  Not  a  dollar  ;  it  is  wasteful  to  be  beautifying  and 
enlarging  the  church,  when  people  are  needing  blankets 
and  food  and  clothes  and  shoes." 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  I  can  accommodate  you  ;  "  and  taking 
out  of  my  pocket  several  lists,  I  said  :  "  I  always  carry 
these  with  me,  for  I  am  looking  after  all  these  things. 
Here  is  a  blanket  list,  and  a  garment  list,  and  a  shoe  list 
— all  for  the  poor,  and  there  are  enough  of  them.  On 
which,  or  on  how  many  of  these  lists  will  you  subscribe  ? ' ' 
He  would  not  subscribe  to  any.  * '  Well, ' '  I  said,  ' '  do 
not  find  fault  with  those  who  are  making  these  improve- 
ments, and  have  their  names  for  small  amounts  on  every 
one  of  these  lists.  And  now,  about  my  clothes.  That  is 
a  personal  matter  ;  you  are  at  liberty  to  wear  any  style 
you  please,  and  I  claim  the  same  privilege  for  myself,  and 


252 


Led  On  ! 


will  not  permit  you  or  anyone  else  to  regulate  the  cut  of 
them."  Poor  man,  if  he  is  alive  now,  he  would  find  in 
every  church  in  Charleston  everything  done  that  was 
then  being  done  in  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion 
in  1869. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


THE  WORK  OF  MY  I.IFK   IS   RECOGNIZED  AND   HELPED. 


/  enlarge  the  home — New  arid  old  friends  still  help  me — / 
Jind  a  friend  of  my  childhood  in  Governor  Ligon — "  Cast 
thy  bread  upon  the  waters "  —  A  reminiscence  of  my 
mother's  New  Haven  days — Mr.  Charles  O' Co7inor  recog- 
nizes the  statesmanlike  character  of  my  work —  The  class 
of  the  refined  and  educated  was  to  be  saved  to  the  South 
through  my  efforts — Hence  the  support  of  outsiders. 

I  SOON  found  that  the  home  I  had  purchased  was  not 
large  enough,  so  I  built  an  addition  to  it,  which  in 
time  was  all  paid  for.  I  had  agreed  to  take  boys  to  fill  it 
to  overflowing,  which  number,  added  to  those  who  were 
to  live  in  the  house  my  wife  and  I  had  given  up,  had 
trebled  my  responsibilities.  Relying  on  the  pledge  of  the 
society  in  Baltimore,  I  felt  I  had  a  nucleus  to  which  I 
might  add  the  amounts  which  each  boy  could  pay  ;  for 
from  the  second  year  I  had  always  required  that  each 
should  pay  what  he  could,  if  it  was  only  a  barrel  of 
potatoes.  The  last  week  in  September,  1869,  I  received 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Glenn,  of  Baltimore,  saying  that  cir- 
cumstances would  prevent  him  further  aiding  me.  This 
was  a  staggering  blow;  only  my  wife  knew  of  this  calam- 
ity. The  school  I  opened  as  usual,  but  with  a  trembling, 
anxious  heart.     Yet  I  believed  I  was  doing  the  work  that 

253 


2  54  Led  On! 

God  had  given  me,  and  He  had  been  gracious  to  me.  His 
resources  had  not  failed,  and  He  did  not  let  my  faith  fail 
me.  I  left  for  Baltimore  as  soon  as  practicable,  and  some 
of  the  members  of  the  association  assured  me  that  what- 
ever others  did,  they  would  continue  their  assistance.  I 
then  went  to  New  York  ;  and  I  wish  to  place  on  record 
my  gratitude  for  the  uniform  kindness,  consideration,  and 
affection  even,  with  which  I  have  been  treated  for  thirty 
years  by  my  Northern  friends.  Men  and  women  of  every 
political  association,  of  different  religious  affiliations,  and 
of  different  grades  of  society,  have  been  kind  and  generous 
to  me.  I  have  never  had  manifested  to  me  any  bit- 
terness towards  the  South.  When  it  is  remembered  that  I 
came  from  South  Carolina,  from  Charleston,  the  hot-bed 
of  secession,  and  frankly  asked  for  aid  for  the  sons  of  those 
who  had  been  foremost  in  the  strife,  from  those  with  whom 
they  had  fought,  and  that  I  was  received  with  a  warm 
welcome,  and  that  through  their  generosity  I  have  been 
sustained  all  these  years,  it  is,  indeed,  to  me  marvellous. 
It  evidences  the  power  of  the  grace  of  God.  I  think  my 
work  is  a  testimony  and  a  tribute  to  the  goodness  there 
is  in  human  nature.* 

From  Baltimore  I  went,  as  I  have  said,  to  New  York, 
where  Mr.  Wolfe,  Mr.  Low,  Mr.  Spencer,  Mr.  Aspinwall, 
Mrs.  A.  M.  Minturn,  Mr.  Stuart  Brown,  Mr.  J.  W.  Chan- 
ler,  and  others  helped  me.  Mr.  Wm.  P.  Clyde  gave  me 
groceries  enough  to  carry  me  seven  months.  By  the  month 
of  February  I  had  run  down  to  almost  nothing,  and  things 
were  looking  very  blue,  when  one  day  I  received  a  tele- 
gram from  Mr.  Glenn  telUng  me  that  it  was  important 
that  I  should  come  to  Baltimore.  I  went,  and  if  I  here 
say  that  I  believe  that  it  was  God's  providence,  I  hope 
there  will  be  none  to  regard  me  as  a  fanatic  ;  but  if  this 
book  is  read,  and  it  helps  to  make  only  one  person  believe 

*  See  Appendix  B. 


The  Work  of  My  Life  Recognized,         255 

in  the  precious  truth  of  God's  loving,  special  providence 
over  His  children,  it  will  not  have  been  written  in  vain. 

Mr.  Glenn  told  me  that  Mr.  Caleb  Dorsey  had  died, 
and  had  willed  thirty  thousand  dollars  to  be  distributed 
to  those  in  need  in  the  South  ;  that  Governor  Ligon  had 
been  left  executor  for  the  distribution  of  this  sum,  and 
that  when  I  had  been  in  Baltimore  two  3'ears  before,  he 
had  been  struck  by  my  Christian  name,  Anthony  Toomer, 
which  he  had  seen  in  Mr.  Glenn's  paper  repeatedly,  and 
had  wondered  who  I  could  be.  At  that  time  he  was  not 
able  to  assist  and  therefore  made  no  inquiries,  but  as  soon 
as  this  fund  was  at  his  disposal,  he  asked  Mr.  Glenn  to 
telegraph  for  me.  I  rode  out  to  the  Governor's  residence 
with  Mr.  Glenn's  introduction,  and  the  Governor  asked 
how  I  came  by  the  name  of  Anthony  Toomer  I  told 
him  I  was  named  after  my  great-grandfather  and  my 
grandfather  ;  the  former  an  officer  in  the  Revolutionary 
war.     My  mother's  name  was  Toomer. 

* '  Were  you  ever  in  New  Haven  ?  "  he  asked  ;  "  if  so, 
when  ? ' ' 

"  In  1832  and  1833." 

"  How  many  brothers  and  sisters  did  you  have,  and 
what  were  their  names  ?  ' ' 

I  told  him.  He  said,  ' '  Then  I  am  right.  You  were 
that  curly-headed  little  boy  I  used  to  ride  on  my  horse. 
When  I  was  in  Yale  College,  your  mother,  who  was  a 
strikingly  handsome  woman,  of  most  engaging  and  fasci- 
nating manners,  and  with  a  generous  heart,  was  very 
kind  to  me,  and  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  that  I  am  able 
to  show  my  appreciation  of  kindness,  shown  long  ago,  by 
now  aiding  your  mother's  son  in  his  noble  work."  He 
drew  a  check  for  three  thousand  dollars,  and  handed  it  to 
me,  saying,  "You  can  use  it  for  your  own  or  your  mother's 
needs,  or  in  any  manner  you  see  fit."  Of  course  it  was 
given,  every  dollar  of  it,  to  the  school.     My  mother  was 


256  Led  On! 

very  glad  that  her  bread  cast  upon  the  waters  had  come 
back  to  do  so  much  good  in  later  days. 

Bemg  in  New  York  later  in  the  season,  I  requested  Hon. 
Clarkson  N.  Potter  to  introduce  me  to  Mr.  Charles 
O'Connor,  who  for  three  years  had  regularly  subscribed  to 
my  work  without  meeting  me  face  to  face.  Mr.  O'Connor 
was  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  I  feared  that  he  might  not 
understand  that  I  was  an  Episcopalian,  and  of  course  the 
boys  were  under  that  influence  ;  though  there  is  no  effort 
at  proselytism  made  among  Roman  Catholics,  Presby- 
terians, Methodists,  Baptists,  and  Lutherans,  who  are 
taken  care  of  as  well  as  our  own  church  boys.  I  brought 
this  fact  to  Mr.  O'Connor's  notice,  as  I  did  not  wish  him, 
or  anyone  else,  to  give  me  one  dollar  under  a  false  impres- 
sion. Mr.  O'Connor's  reply  was  thorougly  characteristic. 
'*  I  know,  sir,  that  you  are  an  Episcopal  clergyman,  and 
if  you  are  the  man  I  take  you  to  be,  I  have  no  doubt  your 
boys  will  lean  very  much  to  that  Church  ;  indeed,  if  you 
made  them  all  good  Episcopalians,  I  think  you  could 
make  them  some  things  a  great  deal  worse."  Mr.  Potter 
and  myself  assented  with  a  good  laugh.  "  But,"  added 
Mr.  O'Connor,  "to  be  frank  with  you,  it  is  not  the  re- 
ligious aspect  of  your  work  which  attracted  me.  Your 
aim  has  been  to  save  a  representative  class  of  our  fellow- 
citizens,  which  is  relatively  small  everywhere,  and  we  of 
the  North  cannot  afford  to  lose  that  class  in  the  South, 
any  more  than  you  at  the  South  can  lose  that  class  at  the 
North.  I  have  regarded  your  action  as  that  of  a  states- 
man, and  a  most  beneficial  political  movement.  For  that 
reason  I  have  helped  and  do  now,  (and  he  handed  me  a 
substantial  check)  and  wish  I  could  do  more. ' '  He  helped 
me  until  he  died.  How  I  wish,  now,  the  broad-minded, 
substantial  men,  of  whom  there  are  still  many,  could  see 
it  likewise,  for  the  work  is  just  as  essential  now  as  then, 
only  it  is  so  hard  to  carry  it  on. 


The  Wo7'k  of  My  Life  Recognized.         257 

I  was  reading  Franklin's  autobiography  recently,  when 
I  met  the  statement  that  the  great  revivaHst  preacher, 
Whitefield,  who  gathered  money  to  build  an  orphanage  in 
Savannah,    Georgia,    was    accused    by    some    miserable 
slanderer  of  appropriating  the  same  to  his  own  use,  and 
Benjamin  Franklin,  of  his  knowledge  of  the  man,  vouches 
for  his  honesty.     That  was  long  ago,  but  human  nature 
is  the  same  in  all  ages,  and  an  equally  vile  slander  was 
sprung   upon  me.      At  the  time,    my  wife   and  I  were 
giving  every  dollar  of  our  certain  income  to  sustain  the 
work  ;  were  taking  boarders  to  get  money  to  live  ;  when 
many  days  I  gave  away  the  last  dollar  I  had,  without 
knowing  where  the  next  was  to  come  from  ;  yet  there  was 
some   poor   soul   so  mean   as   to   accuse  me  of  making 
money  out  of  my  work.    Of  course  such  things  are  brought 
to  your  attention  by  well-meaning  friends,  and  I  traced  it 
pretty  surely  to  its  source.     It  did  me  no  harm  where  I 
was  known,  but  it  was  spread  from  the  same  source  in 
Baltimore,  and  did,  not  me,— for  I  was  not  living  on  the 
plane  where  such  motives  dwell,— but  the  work  harm,  and 
deprived  me  of  the  opportunity  to  assist  many  who  needed 
help.     It  is  very  sad  that  men  should  live  who  are  eager 
to  impute  wrong  motives  to  good  deeds.    There  is  compara- 
tively, so  little  self-sacrifice  in  the  world  that  it  is  difficult 
for  a  great  many  to  believe  that  there  is  not  some  ulterior 
purpose  in  an  action,  however  benevolent  it  may  be.     But 
the  good  Lord  has  compassion  on  us  all,  and  I  am  only 
sorry  for  such  narrow-minded  and  limited  souls.     I  have 
heard  the  same  of  others  as  of  myself  through  the  years, 
but  dismiss  the  subject  with   free   forgiveness  to  every 
traducer. 

During  the  fall  of  1869,  I  engaged  from  the  State 
Normal  School  of  Albany,  New  York,  Mr.  George  W. 
Chaloner,  who  proved  in  time  a  very  superior  mathemati- 
cal teacher.     He  was  not  in  good  health  when  he  came  to 


I 


258  Led  On  I 

us,  but  the  Southern  climate  built  him  up  and  he  lived 
for  fifteen  years  in  my  employ,  when  he  died.  I  brought 
him  from  the  North  for  two  reasons.  Our  young  men  at 
home,  owing  to  the  war,  had  not  received  that  S3^stematic 
education  which  alone  qualifies  one  for  an  important  posi- 
tion. It  is  a  great  pity,  indeed  it  is  a  great  robbery,  for 
incompetent  persons  to  attempt  to  teach.  They  rob  a 
child  of  that  which  can  never  be  given  back,  time  and 
opportunity.  Secondly,  I  wished  to  prove  to  my  generous 
Northern  friends  that  in  1869  a  Northern  teacher  could 
come  to  the  South,  could  teach,  and  be  kindly  treated  by 
the  children  of  the  best  people  of  the  land.  I  never  once 
heard  it  urged  against  him,  from  first  to  last,  that  he  had 
come  from  the  North.  He  was  a  good  teacher  and  I  was 
satisfied,  so  that  ended  it.  But  Mr.  Chaloner's  coming 
here  is  a  fine  illustration  of  how  little  some  Northern 
people  understood  or  knew  the  South  ;  quite  as  little  as 
some  Southern  people  understood  or  knew  the  North.  I 
had  the  following  statement  from  Mr.  Chaloner  himself 
Remember  this  was  in  1869.  When  he  determined  to 
accept  my  offer  there  was  a  famil}^  meeting  held,  and  by 
every  argument  and  persuasion  he  was  besought  to  de- 
cline. He  would  be  murdered  as  surely  as  he  came  ;  but 
his  health  was  poor,  and  he  thought  he  would  risk  it 
among  the  savages.  If  he  would  go,  they  told  him  that 
he  must  go  armed  ;  so  his  trunk  was  loaded  with  a  rifle 
a  pair  of  pistols,  a  dirk  and  a  large  knife,  as  well  as 
with  plenty  of  ammunition,  and  he  was  urged  to  sell 
his  life  as  dear  as  possible.  When  the  parting  came,  it 
was  as  with  one  going  to  sentence  of  death.  When  he 
arrived  and  was  greeted  and  put  to  work,  it  did  not  gradu- 
ally, but  suddenly,  burst  upon  him  what  a  fool  he  had 
been.  When  he  knew  us  as  we  are,  he  concealed  his  war- 
like arsenal,  and  never  told  me  of  it  for  some  years,  when 
the  ludicrousness  of  the  whole  thing  convulsed  him  with 


The  Work  of  My  Life  Recognized.        259 

laughter.  It  was  ludicrous,  but  it  was  sad.  They  were 
not  the  only  people  who  thought  this  of  us.  Much  of  the 
legislation  which  has  caused  so  much  sorrow  and  loss  to 
the  people,  sprang  from  this  suspicion  in  the  multitude, 
which  designing  politicians  for  years  played  upon  to  keep 
us  apart.  It  has  been  wicked — it  is  wicked.  There  are 
thousands  of  good  and  noble  people  at  the  North  and  at 
the  South,  and  it  is  lamentable  how  ignorant  they  have 
been  of  each  other.* 

*  See  Appendix  F. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


CAI.UMNY  AND   REBUFF  MKF^T  MK 


A  calumny  stops  the  flow  of  benefice7ice  in  Baltimore —  The 
vicissitudes  of  my  fl?iancial  life — Reflections  on  God's 
providential  care — I  am  rotighly  rebuffed  by  a  friend  of 
Dr.  Muhlenberg — I  give  him  a  sharp  lecture — He  proves 
his  repeyitance  by  a  small  gift. 

IN  October,  1870,  we  began  the  fourth  year  of  our  Home. 
I  went  to  Baltimore  in  November,  but  found  the  doors 
unaccountably  shut.  I  did  not  then  know  the  calumny 
of  which  I  had  been  made  the  victim,  and  to  which  I  have 
before  referred.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  G.  Wyman,  indeed,  con- 
tinued their  aid,  but  I  found  it  necessary  to  go  on  to  New 
York  ;  but  even  there  I  found  the  task  of  collecting  money 
was  not  easy.  I  was  told  it  was  a  bad  time  to  ask  for  help, 
but  then,  when  has  a  poor  beggar  ever  found  it  a  good 
time  ?  How  often  one  hears,  what  is  undoubtedly  true, 
that  there  are  so  many  calls.  And  it  seems  to  me  we 
ought  to  be  glad  there  are.  We  may  not  be  able  to 
give  to  all,  but  is  it  not  an  evidence  that  Christ's 
Spirit  is  working  in  the  hearts  and  lives  of  so  many, 
who,  feeling  the  life  of  Christ  in  themselves,  are  trying  to 
spread  His  Kingdom,  trying  to  enlighten  ignorance,  to 
relieve  suffering,  to  make  the  world  brighter  because  they 
live  in  it  ?     What  better  use  can  be  made  of  superfluous 

260 


Calumny  and  Rebuff  Meet  Me.  261 

means  than  in  helping  those  who  have  the  capacity  of 
using  means  for  God's  glory,  and  the  opportunity,  which, 
perhaps,  the  giver  has  not  ?  Suppose  there  were  not  these 
calls,  that  no  benevolent  work  was  going  on,  that  every- 
thing that  is  evil  and  deteriorating  were  left  to  work  in 
human  life,  what  would  become  of  the  w^orld  ?  If  men 
acted  on  the  belief  that  these  things  are  in  the  masses, 
and  it  is  best  to  leave  them  to  themselves,  how  long  would 
life  and  wealth  be  safe  ?  On  the  low  plane  of  self-preser- 
vation, we  should  thank  God  for  the  many  calls,  and  re- 
spond favorably  to  as  many  as  we  have  the  ability  to  assist. 

I  remember  one  day  during  my  visit  to  New  York  going 
with  Mr.  A.  A.  Low  to  Staten  Island,  to  some  celebration 
at  the  Sailor's  Snug  Harbor.  The  meeting  had  gone  on 
very  well,  and  speeches  had  been  made.  I  had  taken  an 
obscure  seat  in  the  rear  when  Mr.  Low  began  to  speak, 
but  I  saw  in  the  first  few  sentences  that  I  was  going  to  be 
called  out.  I  tried  to  hide  but  it  was  no  use.  Mr.  Low 
called  me  to  the  platform  and  I  had  to  make  a  speech.  It 
was  there  I  met  Mr.  W.  H.  Aspinwall,  who  greeted  me 
warmly  after  the  speech,  and  before  we  left  handed  me  a 
check  of  a  considerable  amount  for  my  work  ;  and  he  con- 
tinued until  his  death  to  be  an  annual  contributor.  Then 
his  pious  wife,  a  sister  of  the  great  J.  Lloyd  Breck,  con- 
tinued to  be  my  generous  friend  until  she  died.  So  much 
came  of  that  invitation  of  my  dear  friend  Mr.  Low. 

But  I  was  sometimes  terribly  disheartened.  One  day 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Morgan,  rector  of  St.  Thomas's  volunteered  to 
give  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  one  of  his  wealthy  par- 
ishioners, who  had  just  moved  into  a  new  house,  newly  fur- 
nished. He  appreciated  the  compliment  of  his  rector  in 
singling  him  out,  and  began  to  make  excuses  for  not  help- 
ing me,  by  telUng  me  how  much  he  had  recently  given, — 
thirty  thousand  to  this  object,  five  thousand  to  another, 
and  four  to  another,  and  so  on.     He  estimated  his  recent 


262  Led  On  ! 


gifts  at  about  forty  thousand  dollars.  I  deprecated  his 
giving  his  reasons  for  refusing  me  help.  I  was  quite 
ready,  I  said,  to  believe  them  good,  and  congratulated 
him  and  his  beneficiaries,  and  only  regretted  I  was  not 
so  fortunate  as  to  be  one  of  them.  His  conscience  seemed 
to  be  awakened,  and  he  began  to  tell  the  conditions  on 
which  each  sum  was  to  be  given.  They  were  such  in  each 
case,  I  perceived,  that  his  bank  account  had  not  been  de- 
pleted, nor  was  it  in  much  danger.  I  learned  on  good 
authority  afterwards,  that  he  did  give  five  thousand  of  the 
forty.  My  reflections  as  I  left  him  were  on  the  self-decep- 
tion of  the  human  heart  ;  how  prone  we  are  to  cheat  our- 
selves into  believing  we  have  done  what  we  know  we 
ought  to  do. 

During  this  visit  to  New  York  another  great  forward 
movement  was  made  ;  it  came  about  apparently  very 
naturally.  I  was  dining  with  my  friend  Mr.  Howard 
Potter,  brother  of  my  early  and  long  generous  friend, 
Hon.  Clarkson  N.  Potter,  who  helped  me  until  he  died. 
It  so  happened  that  the  Rev.  K.  N.  Potter,  D.D.,  then 
President  of  Union  College,  came  in  to  dine.  He  had 
happened  in  1868  to  sit  behind  me  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
General  Convention,  in  New  York,  and  he  heard  my  com- 
ments on  a  speech  which  some  idiot  was  making.  Every- 
thing had  been  peaceable  and  lovely.  It  was  the  first 
General  Convention  since  the  war,  when  all  the  South  was 
again  represented,  and  all  the  Northern  brethren  had  been 
cordial  and  considerate.  Then  this  young  man,  in  spread- 
eagle  style,  was  just  rubbing  the  fur  of  us  all  the  wrong 
way.  Everybody  was  nervous  ;  there  was  apparent 
agitation,  and  I  was  talking  to  Bishop  Davis's  daughter, 
wishing  that  I  could  get  hold  of  the  man  by  the  nape  of 
his  neck,  and  throw  him  out  of  the  window.  Doctor  Potter 
seemed  so  much  pleased  with  my  remarks  that  he  intro- 
duced himself.     When  Doctor  Potter  went  home  to  his 


Calumny  and  Rebuff  Meet  Me.  263 

charge  in  Bethlehem,  he  sent  me,  unsolicited,  five  hun- 
dred dollars,  and  a  valuable  box  of  clothing  for  my  boys 
from  his  parish.  So  we  were  not  strangers  when  we  met 
two  years  afterwards  at  dinner  at  his  brother's.  He  asked 
me  if  I  had  any  boys  ready  for  college.  I  said  I  had  five, 
but  I  had  no  hope  of  sending  them,  as  the  provision  at 
Trinity  had  failed  me.  He  told  me  to  send  them  to  him, 
and  that  they  should  be  no  expense  to  me,  save  for  their 
clothing.  I  afterwards  learned  that  he  proposed  to  provide 
for  them  at  his  own  expense.  One  of  those  boys  has  been 
head  master  at  the  Porter  Military  Academy  for  several 
years.  It  will  readily  appear  what  an  impetus  this  again 
gave  to  me  and  to  my  institution,  and  when  it  is  stated 
that  there  has  not  been  a  year  since  that  we  have  not  had 
from  five  to  ten  boys,  at  one  time  twenty-six,  either  at 
Union  College,  Schenectady,  or  at  Hobart  College,  Geneva, 
through  the  instrumentality  of  Doctor  Potter,  it  will  be 
seen  what  an  invaluable  benefactor  Doctor  Potter  has 
been  to  the  Church  and  to  the  State.  Miss  Catherine  L,. 
Wolfe,  daughter  of  Mr.  John  David  Wolfe,  once  told  me 
she  had  given  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  Union  College  to 
be  invested,  and  the  interest  of  that  fund  was  to  be  used 
for  the  benefit  of  my  boys.  And  while  Doctor  Potter  was 
there  it  was  so  appropriated. 

During  the  summer  of  1870,  I  enlarged  the  schoolhouse 
by  adding  four  rooms  twenty  by  twenty,  well  ventilated 
and  built  of  brick.  I  had  no  money  at  the  time,  but  the 
rooms  were  a  necessity,  and  I  trusted  in  the  goodness  of 
God  to  assist  me  in  paying  for  them.  The  cost  was  three 
thousand  dollars.  It  took  some  time,  but  the  debt  has 
long  since  been  paid.  Should  I  record  all  the  ways  by 
which  God  has  led  me,  this  biography  would  be  extended 
to  undue  limits,  but  I  give  two  incidents  only,  by  way  of 
illustration. 

I  owed  a  bill  of  two  hundred  and  forty-nine  dollars  and 


2  64  Led  On  ! 


fifty  cents  for  kitchen  utensils  and  other  necessary  articles. 
This  had  troubled  me  much,  for  I  knew  the  parties  had 
but  little  capital,  and  they  had  been  very  considerate  in 
not  pressing  me.  Indeed,  this  has  been  singularly  true 
of  all  to  whom  I  have  owed  money.  Being  in  daily  ex- 
pectation of  a  demand  on  me,  and  not  having  been  able  to 
save  the  amount,  I  had  made  it  a  subject  of  earnest  prayer. 
I  was  writing  a  sermon  one  Saturday  afternoon,  when  the 
thought  came  suddenly  in  my  mind,  that  the  bill  ought 
to  be  paid,  and  that  perhaps  there  were  letters  in  the  Post 
Office  containing  money  for  me.  There  was  no  letter  de- 
livery then  and  no  street  cars  ;  of  course  I  had  no  con- 
veyance, so  I  walked  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  Post  Office, 
and  found  quite  a  number  of  letters  for  me.  The  first  I 
opened  was  from  the  Rev.  James  Saul,  of  whom  I  had 
never  heard.  He  stated  that  one  of  my  circulars  had 
been  sent  to  him  b}^  a  friend  in  New  York  a  year  before, 
that  it  had  lain  on  his  desk  long  enough,  and  now  he  en- 
closed a  check  for  one  hundred  dollars  for  my  work,  if  still 
in  existence.  The  second  was  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pinck- 
ney  of  Washington,  D.  C.  He  wrote  that  he  had  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  over  what  he  needed  for  some  certain 
object  for  which  he  had  asked  an  offering,  and  he  knew 
no  work  he  would  rather  help  than  mine.  This  was  just 
the  amount  I  needed  with  fifty  cents  over.  The  bill  was 
paid  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  gave  thanks  to  God,  and  was 
cheered  and  encouraged  by  this  manifestation  of  His  care. 
To  neither  of  these  parties  had  I  written  ;  indeed,  one  of 
them  I  had  never  heard  of 

Oftentimes  my  work  has  been  compared  to  that  of  Mr. 
Miiller  in  Bristol,  England.  The  difference  is,  his  is  far 
more  extensive,  and  it  rose  up  surrounded  by  the  wealth 
of  England.  Mine  rose  in  a  desert,  and  has  depended  for 
help  from  those  who  had  no  special  interest.  He  says  he 
has  never  asked  for  aid  save  from  God  ;  but  he  has  an- 


Calumny  and  Rebuff  Meet  Me.  265 

nually  written  the  story  of  his  work,  and  scattered  it  by 
thousands  of  copies,  and  that  is  as  much  asking  as  by 
word  of  mouth.  I  have,  however,  literally  laid  this  work 
before  God,  by  day  and  by  night,  pleading  that  as  I  had 
not  sought  it,  but  He  had  given  it  to  me,  He  would  give 
me  wisdom  to  do  His  will;  and  then  I  have  worked  as  if 
it  all  depended  on  me,  believing  God  required  this  of  me. 
Often  all  my  work  is  vain.  If  ever  I  have  reason  to 
expect  results,  and  meet  failure  instead,  God  does  not 
forsake  me.  Often  when  in  direst  necessity,  in  some  way 
with  which  I  have  had  nothing  to  do,  help  has  come  tiding 
me  over  the  difficulty.  Would  it  have  come,  if  I  had  su- 
pinely sat  down  without  exerting  m3'self  ?  If  there  were 
no  self-sacrifice,  no  self-denial,  no  mortification  of  the 
spirit,  could  I  prove  that  I  was  willing  to  do  even  if  I 
suffered  ?  I  do  not  believe  anything  short  of  the  most 
powerful  convictions  of  duty,  and  the  strengthening  grace 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  ever  enables  a  man  to  undertake  such 
a  work.  Sometimes  I  met  with  things  hard  to  be  endured. 
Cases  like  the  following,  I  trust,  are  rare. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Muhlenberg  of  blessed  memory  became 
very  much  attached  to  me,  and  one  day  while  sitting  with 
him  in  St.  Luke's  Hospital,  he  said  :  "  I  am  going  to  give 
you  a  letter  to  an  old  man  who  can  give  you  ten  thousand 
dollars  and  he  would  n't  miss  it  a  moment  ;  I  do  not  know 
whether  he  will  give  you  anything,  but  give  him  a 
chance. ' '  For  he  certainly  thought  his  letter  would  bring 
some  aid.  I  called  at  the  house  Doctor  Muhlenberg 
suggested.  I  told  the  servant,  who  wished  to  refuse  me 
admittance,  that  I  had  a  letter  which  I  wished  to  deliver 
in  person.  I  was  ushered  into  a  cheerless  anteroom,  and 
kept  waiting  for  nearly  half  an  hour  before  the  master 
appeared.  As  he  came  in,  in  the  most  ungracious  man- 
ner, he  said,  "  Well,  sir?  I  have  received  your  card. 
What  is  it  ?    What  do  you  wish  ? ' ' 


266  Led  On  ! 


"  To  deliver  you  a  letter  from  Doctor  Muhlenberg." 

He  stood  in  the  doorway  and  did  not  ask  me  to  be 
seated,  but  took  the  letter  most  ungraciously.  It  was  a 
large  letter-size  sheet,  written  on  four  sides.  He  glanced 
at  a  sentence  or  two,  turned  over  the  page,  and  then  to 
the  signature. 

**  Yes,"  he  said  ;  "  this  is  Doctor  Muhlenberg's  hand- 
writing, and  this  is  his  signature,  but — "  crumpling  it  in 
his  hand,  he  pushed  it  back  into  the  envelope,  and  thrust 
it  at  me,  saying  :  ' '  there  are  so  many  impostors  going 
about  I  cannot  attend  to  it." 

Utterly  unprepared  for  so  gross  an  insult,  and  feeling 
that  I  had  done  nothing  to  call  it  forth,  I  was  naturally 
indignant,  and  my  temper  rose  at  once.  I  flushed,  and 
grew  pale,  but  I  put  my  hands  behind  my  back,  and  said, 
**  That  letter  is  addressed  to  you,  not  to  me."  I  trembled 
with  suppressed  rage,  but  fortunately  I  had  read  the  Book 
of  Nehemiah  that  morning  at  my  morning  devotions,  and 
Nehemiah  flashed  through  my  brain  ;  how,  before  he  an- 
swered the  king's  question,  why  he  was  of  that  sad  coun- 
tenance, he  sent  up  a  silent  prayer  for  wisdom.  I  stood, 
accordingly,  and  looked  at  the  man,  did  the  same,  and 
when  at  length  I  had  full  control  of  myself,  I  said:  "  I 
know,  sir,  in  this  great  city  of  New  York,  there  are  a  great 
number  of  unworthy  persons  who  are  going  about.  But 
for  my  own  protection  as  well  as  yours,  I  presented  that 
letter,  which  entitled  me  to  politeness  at  least.  Your  in- 
sult is  more  to  Doctor  Muhlenberg  than  to  me.  Now, 
sir,  if  my  personal  appearance  and  my  manners  do  not  in- 
dicate the  gentleman  I  belie  my  ancestry.  But  I  have  a 
message  to  you.  I  am  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of 
which  you  are  a  member  ;  my  social  position  is  as  good 
as  yours.  I  have  been  the  rector  of  a  prominent  church 
for  eighteen  years,  a  member  of  the  General  Convention, 
and  of  the  Standing  Committee  of  my  diocese,  trustee  of 


Calumny  and  Rebtcff  Meet  Me,  267 

the  University  of  the  South,  and  of  the  General  Theologi- 
cal Seminary  and  Board  of  Missions.  I  should  have  been 
elected  Bishop  of  Africa  by  the  House  of  Bishops,  but  for 
the  intervention  of  my  Bishop,  who  said  he  would  advise 
me  not  to  accept ;  so  that  my  position  is  established.  It 
is  an  apostolic  injunction,  '  Be  courteous.'  You  may  be 
that,  if  you  cannot  be  generous.  Perhaps  the  next  appeal 
to  you  may  be  by  some  young  man,  as  well  introduced  as 
I  am  now,  who,  if  he  is  met  by  you,  as  you  have  met  me^ 
may  go  from  your  presence  abashed  and  humiliated,  and 
may  say,  '  If  this  is  the  way  I  am  to  be  treated,  I  will  give 
up  the  work.'  And  at  your  door  will  be  laid  at  the  great 
day,  some  great  work  for  Christ  and  His  Church  destroyed. 
To  save  you  from  this,  I  must  give  you  the  Master's  mind 
on  this  subject.  If,  sir,  you  could  call  on  Doctor  Dyer, 
who  has  visited  me,  you  will  find  out  whether  I  am  an 
impostor  or  not." 

''  Do  you  know  Doctor  Dyer  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  is  my  privilege,  and  I  count  him  my  friend." 

"  I  did  not  call  you  an  impostor." 

"  No,  sir  ;    you  dared  not  ;  but  you  classed  me  with 

impostors. ' ' 

'*  You  Southerners  are  so  high-toned  and  impulsive," 

he  said. 

"  A  gentleman,  sir,  whether  from  the  North  or  South, 
East  or  West,  is  always  high-strung,  and  knows  when  he 

is  insulted." 

I  had  been  very  bold  before  this  old  man,  but  so  keenly 
had  I  felt  the  indignity,  that  I  was  glad  to  seek  an  obscure 
street  to  hide  the  traces  of  feeling  which  I  knew  must  be 
visible.  I  went  back  to  the  hotel,  and  shut  myself  up 
until  next  morning,  asking  that  God's  grace  would  con- 
quer the  natural  man,  and  give  me  strength  to  rise  above 
such  unworthy  conduct,  if  I  had  to  meet  any  more  of  it. 

A  week  after  I  met  Doctor  Muhlenberg,  and  he  said, 


<< 
( < 


268  Led  On  ! 

'  *  I  heard  about  that  visit  ;  you  gave  the  best  sermon  that 
old  man  has  ever  heard.  I  have  one  hundred  dollars  for 
you  from  him." 

I  thanked  him,  but  begged  him  to  return  it  to  the  old 
man,  as  I  declined  to  receive  it. 

You  must  take  it, ' '  the  Doctor  said. 
Some  things  cost  too  much,  Doctor,  and  this  is  one 
of  them." 

The  Doctor  said,  "  You  do  not  know  what  it  cost  that 
old  man  to  give  one  hundred  dollars,  and  you  must  take 
it." 

'  *  Well, ' '  I  said,  * '  it  cannot  go  to  my  school  ;  that  is 
God's  work,  and  those  who  help  it  must  do  it  for  Christ's 
sake.  I  will  take  the  one  hundred  dollars,  and  give  it  to 
twenty  poor  women." 

**  I  do  not  care  what  3'ou  do  with  it,  so  you  take  it." 

I  am  glad  to  say  this  is  an  exceptional  case,  and  it  is 
here  recorded,  not  in  malice,  but  to  encourage  some  fellow- 
laborer  to  continue  his  work  even  in  the  face  of  insult  or 
contumely.  The  good  Lord  sees  it  all  and  will  recom- 
pense. Mr.  W.  P.  Clyde  renewed  his  gift  of  groceries, 
and  I  closed  the  year  with  a  debt  of  sixteen  hundred  dol- 
lars, one  thousand  of  it  on  the  enlargement  of  the  school- 
house,  which  had  cost  three  thousand  dollars.  My  son, 
Theodore  Atkinson  Porter,  having  finished  at  my  school 
when  only  fifteen  years  old,  I  was  unwilling  to  send  him 
to  college  so  young,  and  he  was  unwilling  to  remain  in 
the  school  where  he  had  graduated,  so  I  sent  him  to  Lon- 
don, Canada,  to  Dean  Helmuth,  but  after  six  months  I 
brought  him  back  to  New  York,*  and  kept  him  at  the 

*  He  graduated  in  1875,  went  with  me  to  Europe,  entered  Berk- 
ley Divinity  School,  and  was  ordained  Deacon  by  Bishop  Williams, 
in  1879  ;  remained  in  Connecticut  at  Pine  Meadow  for  a  year  ; 
came  home,  and  was  ordained  priest  and  made  rector  of  the  church 
in  Sumter.     Fourteen  years  ago  I  brought  him  to  be  my  assistant 


Calumny  and  Rebuff  Meet  Me,  269 

Anthon  Memorial,  until  lie  was  old  enough  to  go  to 
Trinity,  Hartford.  Mr.  Clyde  volunteered  to  bear  his 
expenses  through  college. 

at  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion  and  the  Academy,  and 
here  he  has  been  trained,  I  trust,  to  take  up  my  mantle  when  God 
shall  call  me  to  lay  it  down.  He  married  Kate  Fuller  in  1879,  ^ 
devoted  wife,  and  to  me  a  blessed  daughter  ;  she  died  in  1893, 
leaving  five  children.  He  was  married  again  in  1895  to  l/ouise 
Salmon,  by  whom  he  has  one  son. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


SCHOOI^  AND   CHURCH   FLOURISH 


The  good  health  of  the  school — /  escape  being  made  Bishop 
of  Africa  —I  find  the  needs  of  the  work  met  by  many 
providential  interpositions  —  The  Church  of  the  Holy 
Communion  is  at  length  enlarged  and  beautified — I  intro- 
duce a  surpliced  choir — Not  an  innovation,  but  merely  a 
revival  of  a  past  practice  in  Charleston. 

IN  1 87 1,  the  full  school  opened  for  the  fifth  year,  but  not 
until  November,  because  of  yellow  fever.  At  the  close 
of  the  last  term  v^e  lost  our  first  boy  by  death.  This  was 
William  Cornish,  son  of  the  Rev.  J.  H.  Cornish,  of  Aiken. 
His  death  was  the  result  of  carelessness  in  bathing,  and 
eating  unripe  fruit.     He  was  a  communicant.* 

*  During  thirty  years  there  have  been  but  five  deaths  in  this  in- 
stitution (and  not  one  of  them  in  any  way  connected  with  ordinary 
disease).  One  from  a  congestive  chill,  one  from  organic  affection 
of  the  heart,  one  from  Bright's  disease,  one  the  effect  of  an  acci- 
dent which  befell  the  pupil  before  he  came  to  me,  and  one  a  case 
of  country  fever,  developed  three  days  after  the  boy's  entrance. 
We  have  had  but  one  case  of  typhoid  fever,  one  of  scarlet,  a  few  of 
pneumonia,  but  no  deaths.  Taking  the  number  that  have  been 
here  I  believe  it  is  without  parallel  in  the  history  of  any  school. 
It  shows  this  is  a  healthy  place  ;  it  is  evidence  of  medical  skill 
and  care ;  but  above  all  it  manifests  the  watchful  providence  of 
God,  who  has  spared  me  this  trouble.     I  have  known  the  time 

270 


School  and  Church  Flourish.  271 


I  discovered  accidentally  this  year  that  it  was  necessary 
for  me  to  give  closer  attention  to  the  personal  purity  and 
habits  of  the  boys,  and  I  consulted  Bishop  Howe  as  to  my 
proper  course.  He  told  me  if  I  had  the  wisdom  and  the  tact 
for  this  side  of  the  work,  I  would  indeed  be  a  benefactor 
and  he  would  stand  by  me.  I  have  carefully  and  prayer- 
fully given  close  attention  to  each  individual  boy  from  that 
day  to  this,  with  very  remarkable  success,  and  I  have  piles 
of  letters  received  from  many  who  have  been  my  pupils, 
thanking  me  for  the  care  and  counsel  I  had  given  them, 
and  expressing  gratitude  that  they  had  been  physically, 
as  well  as  mentally  and  spiritually,  saved,  by  my  fearless 
and  faithful  dealing  with  them.  I  am  confident  from  wide 
experience,  that  boys  often  go  wrong  simply  from  the 
neglect  of  fathers  and  friends. 

During  the  summer  of  1871,  I  had  been  compelled  to 
give  my  note  to  two  parties,  one  for  ninety-eight  dollars, 
and  one  for  one  hundred  and  ninety-nine,  for  the  school, 
and  I  did  not  know  how  I  was  to  meet  them.  While  at- 
tending a  man  with  yellow  fever,  I  was  taken  sick  at  his 
bedside  with  a  sympathetic  fever.  Having  once  had  the 
yellow  fever  myself,  I  was  not  very  liable  to  a  second 
attack. 

The  General  Convention  was  then  sitting  in  Baltimore, 
and  it  was  the  first  time  I  was  privileged  to  go  as  a  deputy. 
The  Rev.W.  B.  W.  Howe  was  to  be  consecrated  Assistant 
Bishop  of  South  Carolina,  so  I  left  my  sick-bed  and  went 
to  Baltimore,  not  being  able  to  provide  for  my  notes,  but 
having  told  the  parties  I  would  use  every  effort  to  meet 
them.     When  I  reached  Baltimore  I  found  the  attention 

when  there  was  scarlet  fever  of  a  virulent  type,  and  diphtheria  in 
every  one  of  the  four  streets  which  surround  this  square,  and  not  a 
single  case  here,  while  we  have  often  had  measles  and  mumps, 
and  less  dangerous  and  fatal  diseases.  I  ascribe  to  God's  goodness, 
not  our  merits,  this  wonderful  exemption. 


272  Led  On  ! 


of  the  Church  was  taken  up  with  the  General  Board  of 
Missions,  Domestic  and  Foreign,  the  Missionary  Bishops, 
the  Indians,  the  Chinese,  and  the  Africans,  and  that  was 
no  place  for  me  to  present  the  needs  of  the  white  people 
of  the  South.  I  therefore  kept  my  needs  to  myself,  making 
them  known  only  to  God,  and  as  there  was  a  Celebration 
every  morning,  at  seven  a.m.  ,  at  St.  Paul's,  I  was  glad  to  go 
to  it,  to  bring  the  burden  to  Him  who  there  draws  so  nigh 
to  us.  One  morning  as  I  was  leaving  St.  Paul's,  Miss 
Mary  Glenn  met  me  at  the  door,  and  handed  me  an  en- 
velope, saying,  that  her  sister  had  requested  her  to  give 
it  to  me  ;  it  contained  a  hundred-dollar  bill.  My  note  for 
ninety-eight  dollars  was  due  at  two  o'clock  that  day,  in 
Charleston  ;  so  I  telegraphed  Mr.  Hanckel  to  pay  it 
and  draw  on  me.  Two  days  afterwards,  as  I  was  seated  in 
the  pew  of  the  South.  Carolina  Delegation,  I  had  in  my 
mind  that  twelve  o'clock  had  passed,  and  my  note  for  one 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  dollars  was  due  at  two  o'clock. 
I  was  nervous,  but  felt  the  conviction  that  a  kind  Provi- 
dence would  bring  it  all  right.  A  little  after  twelve  o' clock 
one  of  the  ushers  told  me  a  lady  wished  to  speak  with  me. 
A  woman  again  !  Blessed  woman  !  What  headway 
would  religion  or  charity  make  without  her  ?  It  was  to 
a  woman,  at  the  well  in  Samaria,  our  Lord  first  revealed 
His  Divinity,  a  woman  was  first  at  the  grave,  the  first  to 
whom  He  revealed  Himself  after  the  Resurrection.  As 
woman  ministered  to  Him  when  and  where  tenderness 
were  needed,  so  has  she  ministered  to  His  Church  ever 
since. 

In  the  vestibule  Mrs.  S.  G.  Wyman  met  me  and  handed 
me  an  envelope.  She  said  Mr.  Wyman  had  given  her  one 
thousand  dollars  to  give  to  such  work  as  she  desired  to 
aid,  and  she  had  divided  it  among  five  objects,  of  which 
my  work  was  one.  The  envelope  contained  a  check  for 
two  hundred  dollars.     I  at  once  telegraphed  to  pay  the 


School  and  CJuirch  Flourish,  273 


note  ;  and  thus  my  credit  was  saved.  I  had  not  said  one 
word  to  Miss  Glenn,  nor  to  Mrs.  Wyman,  nor  indeed  to 
any  human  being,  but  I  had  at  the  daily  Celebration 
asked  help,  even  as  the  Syro-Phoenician  woman  asked  it  on 
the  coasts  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  and  God  sent  His  help  to 
me.  In  each  case  the  relief  was  exactly  according  to  the 
need.  If  I  recorded  every  such  incident  in  these  thirty 
years,  this  work  would  be  voluminous.  In  the  early  days 
these  things  occurred  again  and  again;  when  the  work 
had  been  well  established,  and  was  widely  known,  God  has 
seemed  to  require  that  I  should  present  it  to  the  notice  of 
the  benevolent  ;  but  when  I  have  been  in  extremity.  He 
has  always  opened  the  way  for  me  to  go  on.  I  believe  in 
the  special  providence  of  God,  as  firmly  as  I  do  in  the 
Atonement  ;  without  belief  in  both,  life  to  me  would  not 
be  worth  living. 

During  one  of  the  evening  sessions  of  the  General  Con- 
vention, the  Rev.  H.  C.  Potter,  then  Secretary  of  the 
House  of  Bishops,  now  the  distinguished  Bishop  of  New 
York,  came  in  with  a  message  from  the  Bishops.  As  he 
was  going  out  he  stopped  at  our  pew  and  whispered  in 
my  ear,  ' '  Hail,  Bishop  of  Africa  !  "  I  should  not  have 
been  more  startled  if  he  had  fired  a  pistol  at  my  ear. 

'  *  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  You  are  about  being  elected  Bishop  of  Africa  by  the 
Bishops." 

I  did  not  sleep  a  wink  that  night.  I  felt  the  Bishops 
were  making  a  mistake,  for  I  knew  I  had  neither  the 
learning,  the  ability,  nor  the  strength  for  such  an  office, 
and  I  earnestly  prayed  that  it  might  not  be  done.  Bishop 
Davis  was  stone  blind,  and  every  day  I  went  for  him,  and 
took  him  home  from  the  House  of  Bishops. 

One  evening  he  said  to  me  :  "  Porter,  I  do  not  know 
whether  you  will  thank  me,  but  I  prevented  you  last 
night  from  being  elected  Bishop  of  Africa.     I  told  the 


18 


2  74  Led  On  ! 

Bishops  I  would  use  all  my  influence  to  prevent  your 
accepting,  or  allowing  your  name  to  go  to  the  Lower 
House  ;  that  you  had  a  wife  in  extreme  ill-health,  and 
two  young  boys  ;  that  you  yourself  were  not  strong  ;  but 
the  chief  point  of  all, — you  were  doing  a  work  for  the 
Church  even  more  important  than  you  could  do  in  Africa. ' ' 

I  told  him  I  was  grateful  to  him  for  relieving  me  from 
the  situation  ;  for  I  most  certainly  should  have  declined 
an  office  for  which  I  knew  myself  to  be  unfit.  That  was 
as  near  as  I  ever  came  to  the  Episcopate. 

The  great  fire  of  Chicago  occurred  during  the  sitting 
of  this  1 87 1  Convention,  and  made  it  more  difficult  for  me 
to  collect  money  in  New  York  ;  but  I  had  to  have  aid,  or 
stop.  My  best  friends  told  me  that  it  was  useless  to  try, 
but  to  try  I  was  compelled,  and  I  worked  day  and  night, 
footsore  and  heart-weary,  but  not  forsaken.  After  some 
weeks  I  gathered  enough  to  make  me  comparatively  easy 
until  the  spring.  I  then  returned  North,  and  for  the  first 
time  stopped  in  Philadelphia,  made  some  few  friends, 
and  collected  one  thousand  dollars  ;  then  went  to  New 
York,  collected  a  little,  and  went  on  to  Boston.  This  was 
my  first  visit  since  1866,  and  my  first  appeal  for  the  school. 
I  was  kindly  welcomed  in  Boston,  and  from  that  city  has 
come  a  large  part  of  the  help  that  has  sustained  me  all 
these  years. 

From  the  time  that  I  consented  to  build  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Communion,  in  1854,  I  alwa3^s  determined, 
when  the  time  came,  I  would  try  to  build  a  church  which 
would  be  more  appropriate  than  the  one  we  then  built.  I 
have  written  the  account  of  how  I  was  defeated  when, 
through  the  gift  of  Mr.  George  Trenholm,  I  had  had  the 
opportunity.  The  first  movement  towards  my  project  was 
when  Mr.  Wagner  built  the  addition  which  was  used  for 
a  chancel,  but  this  was  only  one  step. 

I  found  the  picture  of  the  roof  of  Trinity  Hall,  Cam- 


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School  and  Church  Flourish,  275 


bridge,  England,  had  it  drawn  by  a  draftsman,  framed, 
and  hung  up  in  the  vestry-room.  One  of  the  vestry 
seeing  it  there  asked  what  it  was.  I  told  him  it  was 
a  rafter  of  the  roof  we  would  one  day  put  on  this 
church.  He  told  me  he  was  afraid  he  would  never  see  it 
up.  I  told  him  I  could  wait  ;  and  there  it  hung  on  the 
wall  for  nearly  two  years.  I  took  occasion  at  each  vestry 
meeting  to  bring  the  matter  up.  One  night  at  a  vestry 
meeting,  Mr.  Trenholm  said  :  '*  Gentlemen,  we  are  none 
of  us  growing  younger,  and  the  rector  has  this  matter  of 
improving  the  church  much  at  heart.  I  propose  that  we 
take  steps  to  carry  out  his  wishes,  if  he  will  explain  them 

to  us." 

I  at  once  told  them  that  I  wished  to  take  out  the  back 
wall  of  the  chancel,  and  build  a  recess  chancel  ;  that  I 
would  assume  the  cost  of  that  if  they  would  do  the  rest, 
namely,  build  two  transepts,  and  put  that  roof  on  the 
church,  and  give  me  the  present  chancel  for  my  choir.  I 
told  them  the  cost  would  be  about  seventeen  thousand 
dollars,  and  proposed  a  scheme  of  subscriptions  running 
over  five  years. 

The  vestry  resolved  to  adopt  my  scheme,  and  we  began 
operations  next  day.  The  present  church  is  the  result. 
At  Easter  many  pledges,  amounting  in  all  to  fifteen  thou- 
sand dollars,  payable  in  five  years,  were  placed  on  the 
altar.  They  ranged  from  fifty  dollars  to  one  thousand 
dollars  each.  It  was  a  bold  venture,  for  the  incomes  of 
my  people  had  then  been  greatly  reduced,  but  as  everyone 
agreed  to  do  something,  we  borrowed  from  the  bank  and 
worked  it  off",  using  these  pledges  as  collaterals.  I  gave 
my  individual  note,  and  Mr.  Trenholm  endorsed  it.  I 
also  insured  my  life  for  five  thousand  dollars  and  assigned 
it  to  the  vestry,  so  as  to  secure  them  from  my  pledge  for 
the  chancel  in  case  I  died  before  it  was  paid  for.  In  the 
course  of  time  the  alterations  were  all  paid  for,  costing 


276  Led  Oil! 


seventeen  thousand  eight  hundred  dollars.  It  was  a  long, 
hard  struggle.  In  the  fall  of  187 1  I  went  to  New  York 
and  had  a  very  diflBcult  time,  but  people  were  kind,  even 
when  they  gave  nothing.  I  collected  a  little  and  went 
home,  and  struggled  along  I  scarcel}^  know  how.  I 
again  went  North  in  the  spring  intending  to  go  to  Boston  ; 
but  the  great  fire  there  broke  out  the  daj^  I  reached  New 
York,  and  of  course  I  did  not  go,  but  turning  westward,  I 
visited  Pittsburgh  and  Cincinnati.  In  the  former  place  I ' 
met  Mr.  J.  H.  Shoenberger,  who  was  very  generous  to  me, 
and  often  afterguards  helped  me.  I  also  visited  Cincin- 
nati, and  Mr.  I^arz  Anderson  and  Mr.  George  Shoen- 
berger gave  me  each  five  hundred  dollars,  with  subscrip- 
tions from  others.  I  afterwards  went  to  Louisville, 
Kentucky,  but  was  not  compensated  for  the  effort.  When 
I  look  back,  I  realize  more  and  more  how  this  work  has 
been  sustained  of  God.  I  do  not  believe  any  man  living 
could,  unaided  by  Providence,  have  sustained  it.  During 
the  year  Mr.  William  CuUen  Br3^ant,  the  poet-editor,  vis- 
ited us,  and  in  the  Evening  Post,  of  New  York,  he  gave  a 
glowing  account  of  the  school,  and  as  long  as  he  lived, 
whenever  I  went  to  New  York,  he  always  gave  me  the 
benefit  of  a  cordial  editorial,  which  helped  me  much.  Mr. 
J.  C.  Hoadley,  of  Boston,  also  visited  us  and  gave  me 
substantial  aid. 

On  the  31st  of  March,  1872,  Easter  Sunday,  at  the  visi- 
tation of  Bishop  Howe,  and  with  his  consent,  I  introduced 
the  surpliced  choir.  I  had  for  several  years  been  utilizing 
the  boys  as  choristers,  but  I  had  not  then  adopted  a  uni- 
form, and  it  was  not  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  them  in  their 
motley  dress  ;  so  I  consulted  Mr.  Trenholm  as  to  the 
wisdom  and  expediency  of  this  departure. 

I  never  will  forget  Mr.  Trenholm' s  advice  to  me. 

"  I  have  wondered,"  he  said,  *'  why  you  did  not  long 
ago  put  those  boys  in  cassocks  and  cottas.     Now  you  get 


School  and  Chuj^ch  Flourish.  277 


patterns  and  I  will  give  you  the  materials,  and  if  3^ou  go 
among  the  ladies  and  get  them  interested  by  making  the 
garments,  after  they  are  made,  they  will  wish  to  see  them 
used;  and  when  the  women  of  the  parish  are  all  in  favor 
of  it  you  will  have  no  trouble." 

I  followed  his  advice,  and  when  the  vestments  were 
ready,  the  ladies  scarcely  wished  me  to  wait  until  Easter. 
The  news  of  the  innovation  was  noised  abroad,  and  the 
church  was  crowded  to  excess  that  Easter ;  for  we  had  a  full 
choral  service.  Two  families  left  the  church,  but  ten  came 
in  their  place.  Two  vestrymen  withdrew  their  sons  from 
the  choir,  but  in  six  months  asked  that  they  be  allowed  to 
return.  Save  that,  I  did  not  have  the  least  trouble  in  my 
parish.  All  Hked  it.  Outsiders  made  a  great  stir,  and  it 
was  amusing  to  hear  how  much  the  brethren  of  the  de- 
nominations had  to  say  about  it;  but  the  people  continued 
to  come,  and  now,  twenty-five  years  from  then,  I  never 
have  an  extra  service  that  the  church  is  not  packed  ;  and 
there  are  very  few  found  who  do  not  enjoy  the  service. 
Several  newspaper  attacks  were  made  upon  me  which  I 
did  not  notice,  but  I  was  preparing  a  sermon,  reviewing 
seventy  years  of  the  Society  for  the  Advancement  of 
Christianity,  and  I  had  to  read  up  a  great  many  old 
records,  among  them  the  proceedings  of  the  vestry  of  St. 
Michael's.  There  I  found  an  entry  of  a  charge,  so  many 
shillings  paid  for  washing  the  surplices  of  the  choir-boys, 
some  sixty  or  seventy  years  before.  I  immediately  pub- 
lished the  item.  This  refreshed  the  memory  of  old  Colonel 
Fergurson  and  Doctor  Prioleau,  who  remembered  they 
had  been  surpliced  choir-boys  at  St.  PhiUp's,  long,  long 
ago.  This  ended  the  controversy.  It  had  been  done  be- 
fore in  Charleston;  it  was  really  no  innovation,  and  Doctor 
Porter  was  not,  therefore,  going  to  Rome.  In  the  late 
spring  of  1872,  I  was  in  desperate  straits  ;  I  really  did  not 
know  what  to  do.     I  went  to  Philadelphia,  and  was  the 


78  Led  On  ! 


guest  of  the  Rev.  E.  A.  Hoffman,  D.D.,  then  rector  of  St. 
Mark's,  now  the  Very  Reverend  Dean  of  the  General 
Theological  Seminary,  New  York,  who  has  written  his 
name  in  flames  of  perpetual  light  by  his  princely  gener- 
osity to  that  great  Church  Seminary,  and  by  his  munificent 
gifts  to  St.  Luke's  Hospital.  Doctor  Hoffman  asked  me 
on  Saturday  to  preach  for  him  on  Sunday,  but  I  had 
already  accepted  an  invitation  from  Rev.  Mr.  Harris, 
rector  of  the  Church  at  Chestnut  Hill.  Doctor  Hoffman 
reminded  me  that  I  would  address  a  much  larger  congre- 
gation at  St.  Mark's,  but  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  fulfil  my  pre- 
vious engagement.  I  accordingh^  went  to  Chestnut  Hill, 
and  on  Sunday  it  rained  in  torrents.  There  were  very 
few  persons  in  church,  so  I  preached,  but  did  not  mention 
my  work.  At  that  service  two  ladies  in  very  deep  mourn- 
ing asked  the  sexton  who  I  was,  and  afterwards  came  to 
the  vestry-room  desiring  to  speak  to  me.  One  was  for- 
merly from  Charleston,  the  other  was  Mrs.  Birkhead, 
from  Baltimore.  The  latter  told  me  that  she  had  become 
greatly  interested  in  my  work  through  Mrs.  Heminway, 
of  Boston,  who  had  established  a  school  in  Wilmington, 
North  Carolina,  and  through  Mr.  William  CuUen  Bryant. 
She  asked  me  to  come  over  to  her  friend's  house.  Then 
she  said  she  must  have  been  led  to  church  to  meet  me,  for 
she  never  went  out  in  such  weather.  Strange  to  say,  she 
had  come  from  Philadelphia  to  spend  that  Sunday  only, 
and  we  probably  would  never  have  met  had  she  not  come 
out  in  the  storm.  She  had  seen  her  only  child  drowned 
on  Long  Island,  and  the  origin  of  my  work  had  touched 
her  heart  with  sympathy,  and  she  desired  to  help  me. 
She  assisted  me  much  by  giving  me  several  letters  of  in- 
troduction to  very  prominent  people,  among  them  Mrs. 
John  Jacob  Astor  and  Miss  Gilston  of  New  York,  now 
Mrs.  Mary  Winthrop.  These  letters,  given  in  1872,  have 
been  the  means  in  these  twentj^-five  years  of  my  collecting 


School  and  Church  Flourish, 


279 


about  fifteen  thousand  dollars  ;  so  that  was  not  a  profit- 
less Sunday.  Was  it  a  chance  meeting,  or  was  it  Provi- 
dence ?  These  letters  and  their  immediate  result  enabled 
me  to  go  on.  Without  them  I  should  have  been  obliged 
to  disband  the  school.  One  of  these  letters  took  me  to 
Albany,  where,  at  an  old  ancestral  manor  house,  I  was 
most  hospitably  entertained,  and  generousl}^  helped.  I 
went  from  there  to  see  Mr.  Nat.  Thayer,  of  Boston,  with 
a  letter,  and  he  gave  me  five  hundred  dollars.  As  the 
immediate  result  of  these  letters  I  returned  with  three 
thousand  five  hundred  dollars,  the  gifts  of  people  I  had 
never  met  before. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

UNEXPECTED   HElvP   IN  TROUBIvE 

Our  school  feels  the  panic  of  iSyj — ''Master,  carest  Thou 
not  that  we  perish  f  " — An  2c?ifeeli?ig  bank  president  who 
finds  in  me  his  match — 3Iy  cojigregation  sympathize  and 
assist — Seven  drays  full  of  groceries  unexpectedly  drive 
into  my  yard — An  unjust  appropriation  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  orphanage  becomes  the  occasion  of  assistance  for 
me. 


EVERY  preparation  was  made  for  our  October  opening, 
1873,  the  sixth  year  of  the  Institute.  Jay  Cook  & 
Co.  had  failed  in  September,  and  I  had  sufficient  business 
capacity  to  know  that  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  terrible 
panic.  All  who  remember  the  panic  know  that  it  swept 
through  the  country  like  a  tornado.  It  struck  us  on 
Friday,  26th  of  September.  It  so  happened  that  about 
that  time  I  was  writing  a  sermon  on  the  text  * '  Master, 
carest  Thou  not  that  we  perish." 

The  sermon  lay  on  my  desk  half  finished,  when  I  re- 
ceived a  note  from  the  president  of  the  bank,  reminding 
me  that  my  note  for  five  thousand  dollars,  due  that  day, 
must  be  paid  in  full.  This  note  was  endorsed  by  Mr. 
George  A.  Trenholm,  and  was  given  for  the  enlargement 
and  improvement  of  the  church.     It  was  given  and  taken 

280 


Unexpected  Help  in  Trouble.  281 

as  accommodation  paper,  to  be  renewed  indefinitely,  pay- 
ing each  time  as  I  could.  I  called  on  Mr.  Trenholm,  who 
was  unable  to  help  me.  Everyone  who  remembers  that 
panic  of  1873,  knows  that  the  richest  man  could  not  draw 
any  amount  from  any  bank,  North  or  South.  I  went  to 
the  president  and  told  him  that  so  far  from  receiving  pay- 
ment in  full,  he  would  have  to  renew  it  in  full  ;  he  had 
known  what  the  money  was  loaned  for,  and  the  terms  on 
which  it  had  been  borrowed.  He,  however,  remained  in- 
exorable. I  told  him  so  far  as  I  was  concerned  he  might 
protest  it  and  do  his  worst,  but  he  was  striking  at  my 
endorser,  and  to  save  the  credit  of  this  latter,  I  would 
sacrifice  anything  I  had.  Finding  I  could  not  move  him, 
I  lost  my  temper  and  said:  "  Well,  sir,  go  ahead,  crack 
your  whip,  and  do  what  you  please. ' ' 

I  then  walked  out  of  his  office  giving  the  door  a  sharp 
bang  behind  me.  I  had  not  gone  far,  when  a  clerk  came 
after  me,  sa3dng  the  president  washed  to  see  me.  I  went 
back,  and  he  said,  "  You  must  not  get  vexed." 

I  then  told  him  that  he  was  not  dealing  with  a  specu- 
lator, and  that  he  had  been  quite  willing  to  take  my  paper. 
He  had  known  it  was  good,  but  now,  in  that  extraor- 
dinary state  of  the  financial  world,  instead  of  every  man 
standing  by  his  neighbor  and  helping  him  to  breast  the 
storm,  people  were  for  grinding  down  and  crushing  out 
others,  as  if  by  such  policy  in  the  long  run  they  would 
help  themselves.  '  *  As  you  measure, ' '  I  added,  * '  it  will 
be  meted  to  you  again." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  ''  I  thought  you  could  make  some 
arrangement  ;  but  if  you  cannot,  I  will  give  you  until 
Monday." 

I  really  did  not  see  how  I  could  do  more  on  Monday 
than  on  Saturday,  but  it  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  him,  so 
I  went  to  Mr.  Trenholm  and  got  another  note  endorsed, 
payable  on  Monday. 


282  Led  On! 


On  my  way  from  the  bank  I  met  the  butcher  George 
Shrewsbury,  to  whom  I  owed  five  hundred  dollars  on 
account  of  the  last  year's  beef  for  the  Home.  After  ex- 
pressing his  regrets,  he  told  me  that  unless  I  paid  off  that 
five  hundred  dollars,  he  could  no  longer  supply  me  with 
meat  for  my  boys.  Here  was  another  shock  ;  what  was  I 
to  do  ?  On  Wednesday,  October  ist,  ninetj^-six  boys 
were  expected  from  the  country,  eight  teachers  had  been 
engaged,  and  one  was  on  his  way  from  the  North.  Here 
I  had  a  great  institution  on  my  hands,  with  neither 
money,  provisions,  nor  credit,  and  the  country  trembling 
on  the  verge  of  ruin. 

When  I  reached  home  I  received  my  mail,  and  in  it  was 
a  letter  from  my  son  Theodore,  at  Trinity  College,  whom 
I  had  just  fitted  out  for  the  winter  with  a  fine  overcoat 
and  everj^thing  necessary.  The  letter  said,  while  at  reci- 
tation, a  sneak-thief  had  gone  in  his  room  and  made  a 
clean  sweep.     All  this  came  on  the  27th  of  September. 

I  could  not  finish  my  sermon;  the  text  had  become  a 
direct,  personal  question,  and  my  poor  weak  heart  of  un- 
belief was  very  like  to  that  of  the  affrighted  apostles  in 
the  storm  ;  the  wind  blew,  and  the  waves  ran  high  and 
filled  the  ship  and  I  was  about  to  sink.  O  what  a  ca- 
lamity !  First,  to  those  who  had  learned  to  look  to  this 
institution  as  the  only  but  sure  hope  for  the  education  of 
their  children;  and  to  me  what  a  sorrow  to  see  a  work 
crumbling  to  pieces  which  had  cost  so  much  labor,  for 
which  so  much  had  been  endured,  on  which  so  much  love 
and  faith  had  been  bestowed.  I  was  supremely  wretched. 
Could  I  have  been  mistaken  after  all,  and  was  not  this  a 
God-given  work  ?  I  cannot  describe  the  agony  of  that 
evening.  My  dear  wife  was  at  Clifton  Springs,  New  York, 
under  the  care  of  Doctor  Foster,  for  she  was  a  confirmed 
invalid,  and  I  did  all  I  could  to  relieve  her  sufferings.  I 
did  not  have  her  strong  faith  and  clear  mind  to  counsel  me. 


Unexpected  Help  in  Trouble,  283 

My  aged  mother  I  would  not  perplex  with  my  difficulties, 
so  we  passed  the  evening  together,  and  after  she  had  gone 
to  bed  I  went  round  at  ten  o'clock  and  locked  myself  in 
the  church,  and  in  the  solemn  and  silent  darkness,  alone 
with  God,  I  poured  out  my  soul  in  prayer.  I  asked  that 
help  might  come  to  me  if  it  was  my  Father's  will.  I 
knew  that  man's  extremity  was  God's  opportunity;  there- 
fore I  implored  Him  not  to  forsake  me  now  in  this  time 
of  need.  Again  and  again  I  threw  myself  on  the  floor 
and  prayed.  I  paced  the  middle  aisle  from  door  to  chancel 
and  had  no  comfort.  At  length  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  I  went  up  into  the  chancel,  prostrated  myself  in 
front  of  the  altar,  and  said ;  ' '  Oh,  my  Father,  if  this  work, 
which  I  thought  and  hoped  was  Thine,  must  now  be  ended, 
Thy  will,  not  mine  be  done." 

I  rose,  feeling  the  first  sensation  of  calm  resignation  I 
had  known  in  this  midnight  struggle  with  God.  I  went 
home  and  finished  my  sermon  before  morning  and 
preached  as  I  believe  I  never  did  before  and  never  have 
since.  My  congregation  were  not  aware  of  the  night's 
experience,  but  I  have  never  moved  a  congregation  as  I 
did  that  day.  After  the  sermon  I  came  out  of  the  pulpit, 
and  getting  near  the  congregation,  I  told  them  about  the 
note  I  had  to  meet  the  next  day,  and  begged  each  to  do 
what  he  could.  Some  of  them  offered  the  last  dollar 
they  had.  Two  or  three  watches,  several  diamond  rings 
and  breast  pins,  even  a  wedding  ring  were  in  the  plates, 
and  three  hundred  and  twenty-eight  dollars,  part  of  it 
being  pledged  to  be  sent  to  me  when  the  donors  went 
home.  I  told  the  vestry  to  take  out  all  that  jewelry;  that 
the  sacrifice  should  not  be  made;  the  president  of  that 
bank  should  not  have  it.  I  returned  each  piece  to  the 
owners,  and  asked  the  trustees  of  the  school  (for  it  had 
been  incorporated  by  the  legislature  the  3^ear  I  bought  the 
house  in  the  rear  of  the  church,  and,  when  paid  for,  I 


284  Led  On  / 


had  deeded  to  them)  to  meet  me  after  service.  They  did 
so,  and  agreed  to  go  as  a  committee  of  the  whole,  to 
baker,  butcher,  and  grocer,  and  ask  for  three  months' 
credit,  and  if  at  the  end  of  that  time  there  was  no  apparent 
way  of  carrying  the  work  on,  we  would  wind  up,  and 
gradually  pay  the  debt.  We  then  knelt  and  asked  God's 
blessing,  and  adjourned  to  meet  the  next  day  at  eleven 
o'clock,  and  go  together  on  our  mission.  Troubled  as 
each  of  them  was,  not  knowing  what  a  day  would  bring 
forth,  they  were  willing  to  leave  their  business  and  go  and 
further  this. 

On  Monday  morning  I  went  round  to  the  schoolhouse, 
and  was  standing  in  the  quadrangle  looking  at  the  two 
houses,  wondering  whether  this  great  work  had  come  to 
an  end,  whether  these  halls  would  no  longer  ring  with  the 
merry  voices  of  my  boys,  whether  there  was  to  be  no  open- 
ing in  the  cloud,  no  hope  for  them,  whether  I  had  labored 
only  for  this,  had  prayed,  battled — only  for  this.  I  cannot 
present  in  words  the  lonely  wretchedness  I  was  in  that 
day;  my  heart  was  full  to  overflowing;  tears  I  could  not 
restrain  flowed  down  my  cheeks.  I  sorrowed  for  myself, 
for  my  boys,  for  their  parents  and  friends.  How  many 
hearts  which  had  suffered  so  much  would  that  blow 
reach  ?  It  was  just  nine  o'clock,  and  I  was  about  to  leave 
the  place,  when  I  heard  a  noise  at  the  gate,  which  was 
thrown  open  and  a  dray  was  driven  into  the  yard ;  then 
another,  and  another,  until  seven  were  drawn  up  in  line, 
every  one  of  them  heavily  laden  with  boxes  and  barrels. 
Astonished,  I  walked  up  to  the  drays,  and  there  on  every 
box  and  barrel  was  my  name  in  full,  with  "  Orphans' 
Home,  Charleston,  South  CaroHna,"  added.  Perfectly 
awestruck,  I  looked  at  the  drays,  while  I  seemed  to  hear 
a  voice  from  heaven :  *  *  O  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore 
didst  thou  doubt?" 

I  asked  one  of  the  draymen  where  these  goods  had  come 


Unexpected  Help  in  Trouble.  285 

from  and  where  was  the  bill  ?  His  answer  was  :  *  *  From 
the  steamship  Georgia,  which  arrived  last  night.  There  is 
no  bill,  no  freight,  no  drayage  ;  I  was  told  to  deliver  them 
to  you." 

I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  saying,  ' '  Now  stop  your  work 

if  you  dare  !  ' ' 

I  locked  up  the  groceries,  fully  six  months'  supplies, 
and  then  went  into  the  church,  and  kneeling  at  the  altar, 
I  asked  forgiveness  for  my  want  of  faith,  while  I  thanked 
God  for  His  goodness.  I  then  went  home,  gathered  up 
all  my  silver — spoons,  forks,  sugar-dish,  milk-pot,  and 
every  piece  of  silver  I  owned — and  getting  someone  to 
take  the  load,  I  started  to  go  to  the  bank.  On  the  way 
I  stopped  at  George  Shrewsbury's,  told  him  of  the 
groceries,  and  he  said:  "  Mr.  Porter,  this  is  the  Lord's 
work,  and  as  long  as  I  have  a  pound  of  meat  in  my  stall 
you  shall  have  it.     Pay  me  when  you  can." 

I  paid  him  in  time  ;  indeed,  I  paid  him  several  thou- 
sands of  dollars  before  he  died,  for  he  was  my  butcher  for 
seven  years.  I  went  to  the  baker,  who  was  willing  to 
wait.  Then  I  went  to  Mr.  Trenholm,  got  a  note  deduct- 
ing the  three  hundred  and  twenty-eight  dollars,  and  left 
the  time  open.  Then  I  went  to  the  banker  who  held 
my  note,  and  offered  the  renewal  note  and  my  silver.  He 
said  he  did  not  want  that  ;  he  wanted  currency,  and 
if  the  three  hundred  and  twenty-eight  dollars  was  all  I 
could  do,  he  would  renew  it  for  ten  days.  I  then  saw 
the  trustees,  communicated  the  joyful  news,  and  excused 
them  from  going  round  as  the  crisis  was  past.  I  had  no 
money,  but  I  had  evidence  that  God  was  watching  over 
our  needs.  Before  the  ten  days  were  over,  I  went  to  W. 
C.  Courtney,  President  of  the  Bank  of  Charleston,  and 
told  him  how  I  had  been  treated,  and  he  went  with  me  to 
the  President  of  the  South  Carolina  Loan  and  Trust  Com- 
pany.    The  two  agreed  to  divide  the  note;  and  when  the 


286  Led  071 ! 


day  came,  I  drew  the  amount  in  bills  and  took  them  to 
my  own  banker,  asking  for  m^^  note. 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  money  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  told  him  it  was  none  of  his  business  ;  it  was  ■  ood 
money,  and  if  that  was  the  amount  due,  to  take  it,  and 
give  me  my  note.  Things  had  then  eased  up  somewhat, 
and  people  were  getting  over  their  scare,  and  he  said,  ' '  I 
do  not  wish  for  it ;  I  will  renew  your  note  for  just  as  long 
a  time  as  you  wish." 

I  thanked  him,  but  declined  keeping  it  in  his  bank;  but 
the  intense  nervous  excitement  of  this  transaction  was 
eventually  the  cause  to  me  of  a  long  and  serious  illness. 

I  called  the  trustees  of  the  school  together,  and  told 
them  to  whom  I  believed  I  was  indebted  for  the  groceries, 
and  we  passed  resolutions  which  we  engrossed  and  framed 
and  sent  to  the  donor.  We  received  no  reply;  but  in 
June,  1874,  being  in  New  York,  I  went  to  his  ofi&ce  and 
told  him  I  knew  we  were  indebted  to  him  for  the  supplies 
of  groceries,  and  before  he  replied,  I  wished  to  tell  him 
that  under  God  he  had  saved  the  institution.  Had  those 
supplies  not  come,  credit  no  doubt  would  have  been  re- 
fused; I  should  have  been  obliged  to  stop  the  boys  from 
coming  from  the  country,  and  have  advertised  in  the 
papers  the  next  day  that  the  school  would  not  be  opened. 
Probably  I  might  have  re-commenced  it  at  some  future 
day,  but  even  a  temporary  cessation  would  have  shaken 
the  confidence  of  everyone  in  the  permanent  success  of 
this  work  to  so  great  an  extent  that  I  could  scarcely  have 
regained  my  former  position. 

My  friend  was  moved  by  my  statement,  and  said : ' '  Well, 
you  have  cornered  me.  I  must  tell  you  that  during  the 
height  of  the  panic,  I  remembered  that  your  school  opened 
about  that  time,  and  no  doubt  you  would  be  in  trouble,  so 
I  ordered  the  grocers  who  supplied  my  ships  to  send  you 
the  groceries  you  received. ' '     That  man,  God  bless  him  ! 


Unexpected  Help  in  Trouble,  287 

is  Mr.  Wm.  P.  Clyde,  the  tried,  firm  friend  of  all  these 
years.  This  was  in  June,  and  he  turned  to  his  confiden- 
tial clerk,  to  send  me  at  once  supplies  for  two  more 
months.  May  the  blessing  of  God  be  with  him  and  his 
in  time  and  in  eternity ! 

Be  it  remembered  all  this  happened  during  the  year  of 
the  great  panic,  and  though  I  had  the  groceries,  I  had  no 
money.  During  the  six  years  past  the  expenses  had  ex- 
ceeded my  receipts,  and  each  year  there  was  an  accumu- 
lating debt.  There  was  money  indeed  due  me  from 
pledges  of  persons  w^hose  sons  had  been  here,  which  if  I 
could  have  collected  would  have  paid  my  indebtedness; 
but  in  consequence  of  the  successive  failure  of  crops,  the 
high  taxes,  the  wretched  government — for  this  was  during 
the  so-called  reconstruction  period — the  people  in  the 
country  had  been  growing  poorer  and  poorer,  and  it  was 
out  of  their  power  to  pay.  The  Roman  Catholics  had  for 
a  number  of  years  been  drawing  from  the  city  treasury  six 
thousand  dollars  a  year  to  support  their  orphanage.  I 
knew  that  this  was  contrary  to  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  and  of  the  State  of  South  Carolina,  and  I 
was  spending  a  certain  evening  with  Bishop  Howe,  and 
told  him  that  our  people  were  just  sleeping  over  this  im- 
position, but  after  awhile  would  make  another  move,  and 
get  hold  of  some  of  the  common  school  fund,  and  I  be- 
lieved I  was  in  a  position  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  com- 
munity as  no  one  else  was. 

"  I  have  a  larger  work  than  they  are  supporting,"  I 
said  to  the  Bishop,  ' '  and  suppose  I  send  in  a  petition  to  the 
City  Council  for  the  same  appropriation  ?  I  have  no  doubt 
it  will  be  refused,  but  at  least  it  will  raise  the  question." 

"  Neither  of  you,"  he  answered,  "  have  any  right  to 
such  an  appropriation,  but  what  is  sauce  for  the  goose  is 
sauce  for  the  gander.  Go  ahead  with  my  approval,  and 
let  us  see  what  will  come  of  it. ' ' 


288  Led  On  I 

I  therefore  got  Mr.  Henry  Buist,  a  lawyer  and  a  warm 
friend,  to  draw  up  my  petition.  It  was  a  very  astute 
paper,  and  proved  a  bombshell  in  the  Council.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  C.  C.  Bowen  (who  had  married  the  daughter 
of  Mr.  James  L.  Pettigru,  who  was  a  member  of  my 
congregation)  was  a  member  of  Council,  and  he  saw  at  a 
glance  that  the  appropriation  for  the  Roman  Catholics 
could  not  be  continued  unless  my  application  w^ere 
granted.  Political  influence  was  too  strong  to  allow  of 
discontinuing  the  six  thousand  to  them,  so  he  moved  and 
carried  through,  the  appropriation  of  three  thousand  to 
my  school.  I  thought  it  was  a  mistake  when  I  read  the 
account  in  the  paper,  but  it  was  true.  The  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  a  month  paid  my  butcher's  bill  and  was 
a  great  help,  and  was  continued  for  three  years,  when  Mr. 
Edward  McCrady  and  Mr.  Meminger  got  Mr.  Johnson  of 
Baltimore,  who  owned  some  city  stock,  to  allow  them  to 
use  his  name  to  institute  a  suit  to  stop  these  appropria- 
tions.*   I  told  both  of  those  lawyers,  "  Stop  both,  and  I 

*  In  this  connection  I  will  anticipate  a  few  years.  I  was  elected 
one  of  the  school  commissioners,  in  charge  of  the  city  common 
schools,  and  in  course  of  time,  after  the  suit  was  forgotten,  there 
came  an  application  from  the  Roman  Catholic  Bishop  and  clergy 
for  the  support  of  their  parochial  school,  they  to  elect  their  own 
teachers,  and  to  have  the  sole  management,  but  to  draw  their  pay 
from  the  common  school  fund.  Everything  had  been  arranged, 
and  they  had  secured  a  majority  of  the  Board,  when  Mr,  O'Driscol 
offered  a  resolution  consenting  to  this  petition.  Mr.  C.  C.  Mem- 
inger, in  the  chair,  before  putting  the  resolution,  presented  a  writ- 
ten protest,  which  he  read.     It  was  an  unanswerable  paper. 

'*  If  I  am  the  only  man  to  sign  this,"  he  said,  "  I  will  do  so  that 
it  may  go  on  record."  I  immediately  asked  him  to  pass  the  paper 
to  me.  I  affixed  my  signature  to  it.  Then  I  made  a  speech  and 
told  the  Board  if  they  passed  the  resolution  I  would  secure  the  best 
legal  talent  in  the  city,  and  would  take  out  an  injunction  against 
the  Board,  preventing  the  payment  of  the  appropriation.  I  would 
placard  this  city,  and  call  a  mass-meeting  of  the  Protestant  com- 


Unexpected  Help  in  Trouble. 


289 


am  satisfied, ' '  but  they  made  their  fight  against  me,  and 
of  course  won  it.  The  Roman  Cathohcs  have  had  their 
six  thousand  dollars,  however,  ever  since,  and  have  it 
still. 

munity,  who  were  strong  enough,  if  once  aroused,  to  nip  this  thing 
in  the  bud.     It  was  a  stormy  meeting,  but  the  resolution  was  never 

presented ;  it  just  died. 
19 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


SPKCIAI,    PROVIDENCE 


God^s  Special  providence  is  apparent  in  the  way  my  work 
was  supported —  The  incidents  of  this  chapter  will  appeal 
to  the  most  downcast  or  disheartened. 


PANIC  3^ear  as  it  was,  this  seventh  year,  opening  Octo- 
ber, 1873,  closing  in  August,  1874,  I  raised  in  South 
Carolina  nine  thousand  dollars  besides  the  three  thousand 
from  the  Cit}^  Council,  which  shows  how  we  tried  to  help 
ourselves  ;  for  be  it  remembered  the  first  year  I  gathered 
only  three  hundred  at  home.  Generous  friends  at  the 
North  had  given  me  six  thousand  dollars.  But  after  all 
this  anxiety  and  labor,  after  writing  hundreds  of  letters,  and 
often  sitting  at  my  desk  till  two  or  three  in  the  morning, 
my  overtaxed  ner\"0us  system  gave  way.  I  had  never  re- 
ceived one  dollar  remuneration  for  all  that  has  been  re- 
corded in  these  seven  years.  We  had  a  Christmas  tree 
and  a  dinner  for  the  poor  children  of  the  Sunday  and 
Industrial  School  on  the  26th  of  December,  1873,  and 
after  it  was  all  over  I  broke  down.  Then  began  a  long 
and  severe  illness  ;  but  as  soon  as  I  could  be  moved  I  was 
sent  to  Florida,  where  I  remained  two  weeks,  and  returned 
home  only  to  have  a  second  attack,  more  severe  than  the 
first.     I  then  went  to  Aiken,  and  after  a  while  returned 

290 


special  Providence.  291 

to  Charleston,  and  resumed  my  work.  I  was  very  feeble 
all  winter,  and  of  course  the  burden  was  heavier  to  be 
borne ;  but  the  parish  and  the  school  went  on,  carried  by 
the  unseen  hand  of  God.  The  last  of  May  I  went  to  New 
York,  and  my  family  physician  wrote  to  the  Bishop  and 
the  vestry  that,  in  his  opinion,  if  I  did  not  have  complete 
rest  my  life  would  be  the  forfeit.  Accordingly,  at  their 
earnest  solicitation  I  spent  the  summer  at  the  North, 
making  friends,  and  seeking  aid  wherever  I  could  find  it. 
I  have  grateful  memories  of  that  summer  in  New  York, 
Boston,  New  Haven,  Newport,  Lenox,  and  Stockbridge, 
where  friend  after  friend  was  raised  up  for  me,  through 
whose  kindness  I  paid  off  all  my  indebtedness.  It  is  not 
taken  from  mere  memory,  but  from  the  record  which  I 
made  at  the  time,  that  in  1874  I  met  everywhere  an  ear- 
nest desire  for  the  restoration  of  fraternal  feeling  between 
the  North  and  South.  I  wish  it  were  possible  for  every 
man  and  woman  of  the  South  to  share  the  experience  I 
have  had  at  the  North.  I  have  heard  the  views  of  those 
who  differ  from  us,  and  have  given  my  own  with  perfect 
frankness,  never  concealing  my  war  record,  or  feeling 
that  my  Northern  friends  expected  me  to  make  an  apology 
for  the  course  I  pursued  during  hostilities  ;  and  I  believe 
I  have  been  the  means  of  informing  many  as  to  the  real 
condition  of  the  South,  and  have  in  a  number  of  cases  in- 
duced a  kindly  feeling. 

During  the  summer  I  preached  at  St.  Thomas's  Church, 
New  Haven,  and  after  service,  a  lady  sent  into  the 
vestry-room  to  ask  me  to  come  to  the  hotel  to  see  her.  It 
was  Mrs.  Ogle  Taylor,  of  Washington,  D.  C.  She  was 
on  her  way  to  New  Britain,  but  being  fatigued,  stopped  at 
New  Haven  for  the  night,  and  had  gone  to  Trinity 
Church,  which  she  was  compelled  to  leave  on  account  of 
some  fresh  paint  about  the  church.  Seeing  St.  Thomas's 
Church,  she  had  gone  over  there,  and  was  glad  she  had 


292  Led  On  ! 

done  so,  as  she  had  heard  my  appeal.  After  giving  me 
one  thousand  dollars,  she  invited  me  to  visit  her  at  Wash- 
ington, and  promised  the  aid  of  friends  whenever  I  was 
ready  to  do  the  same  work  for  the  girls  of  the  South  as  I 
was  doing  for  the  boys.  As  Mrs.  Taylor  will  appear 
prominently  again  in  this  record,  I  hope  my  readers  will 
remember  her  name.  Now,  was  it  chance  only  that  she 
came  to  that  church  that  day  ?  I  believe  it  was  Provi- 
dence. During  the  same  year,  Rev.  Mr.  Learoyd,  of 
Taunton,  gave  me  a  letter  to  the  Rev.  Justin  Field,  of 
lycnox,  Massachusetts,  who  most  kindly  received  me, 
and  kindness  upon  kindness  was  extended  to  me.  I  was 
the  guest  of  Mrs.  Ellison,  whose  hospitality  can  never  be 
forgotten.  She  gave  me  a  letter  to  her  brother,  Mr. 
Robert  M.  Mason,  and  to  his  daughters.  Mr.  Mason 
has  long  entered  into  rest,  but  the  generosity  of  his 
daughters  has  never  failed  me  in  all  these  years.  With- 
out them,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  this  work  would  have  come 
to  an  end  long  years  ago.  I  wish  to  place  on  record  as 
a  monument  to  them,  living  in  this  book  after  I  have 
passed  to  my  rest,  that  their  munificent  generosity  for  the 
past  fifteen  years  has  been  the  nucleus  round  which  I 
have  gathered  the  means  to  carry  on  the  work,  and  but 
for  them  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  continue  it. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  White,  then  rector  of  Trinity  Church, 
Newport,  also  kindly  invited  me  to  preach.  Although  I 
was  a  stranger,  he  did  not  introduce  me,  but  bade  me  tell 
my  story.  As  the  congregation  did  not  know  who  I  was, 
I  felt  the  awkwardness  of  the  situation,  and  in  as  straight- 
forward and  delicate  a  manner  as  I  could,  I  introduced 
myself. 

Mr.  Daniel  Leroy  leaned  over  to  his  wife,  and  said,  ' '  I 
never  heard  of  him  before,  but  he  is  a  gentleman. ' '  This  he 
told  me  afterwards.  Mr.  Leroy  was  a  brother-in-law  of  the 
Hon.  Daniel  Webster,  and  his  dear  wife  the  sister  of  the 


special  Providence,  293 

Hon.  Hamilton  Fish,  then  United  States  Secretary  of 
State.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leroy  invited  me  to  be  their  guest. 
I  was  liberally  assisted  in  Newport,  and  the  friendship, 
begun  then,  lasted  until  the  death  of  both  of  my  friends. 
Again  and  again  they  entertained  me  in  Newport.  At 
several  of  the  General  Conventions  held  in  New  York  I 
was  always  their  guest.  It  would  be  impossible  to  tell 
all  the  acts  of  personal  kindness  I  received  from  them,  and 
how  generous  they  were  to  this  school,  nor  did  it  cease 
then.  Mrs.  Edward  King,  their  daughter,  and  Mrs. 
King's  sons  and  daughters,  have  been,  and  are  now, 
among  my  dearest  friends.  Somehow,  I  have  been  with 
them  in  many  times  of  joy,  and  oftener  in  scenes  of  sor- 
row ;  so  that  I  feel  that  I  am  one  of  the  family.* 

*  I  put  on  record  the  names  of  those  who  were  my  principal 
helpers  in  those  days  :  Mr.  A.  A.  Low,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Jacob 
Astor,  Mr.  Wm.  P.  Clyde,  Mr.  W.  H.  Vanderbilt,  Mr.  Isaac  Hen- 
derson, Mr.  Fred  Hubbard,  Mr.  W.  H.  Aspinwall,  Mr.  Adam 
Norrie,  Mr.  John  David  Wolfe,  Mr.  Stuart  Brown,  Mr.  Charles 
O'Connor,  Mr.  J.  Pierpont  Morgan,  Mr.  A.  H.  Bend,  Mr.  A.  M. 
Benson,  Mr.  Charles  K.  Bill,  Mr.  Charles  D.  Dickey,  Mr.  James  C. 
Fargo,  Mr.  Jos.  E.  Sheffield,  Mr.  J.  M.  Dunbar,  Mr.  Percy  K. 
Pyne,  Mr.  Augustus  Schermerhom,  Mrs.  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  Mr. 
W.  E.  Dodge,  Jr.,  Mr.  Henry  E.  Pellew,  Mr.  John  Welsh,  Mr. 
Wm.  Welsh,  Mr.  Geo.  W.  Childs,  Mr.  Edward  T.  Buckley,  Mr. 
I/arz  Anderson,  Mr.  John  H.  Shoenberger,  Mrs.  A.  M.  Minturn, 
Mr.  George  K.  Shoenberger,  Mrs.  Caroline  W.  Suydam,  Mr,  James 
M.  Brown,  Mrs.  E.  Iv.  Spencer,  Miss  Gilston,  Miss  C.  L.  Wolfe, 
Mr.  Saml.  D.  Babcock,  Mr.  Ed.  S.  JafFray,  Mrs.  Ogle  Taylor,  Mrs. 
Mary  Heminway,  Mrs.  W.  H.  Aspinwall,  Mr.  Edw.  King,  Mr.  E. 
R.  Mudge,  Mr.  Clarkson  N.  Potter,  Mr.  Alex.  Brown,  Mr.  Howard 
Potter,  Rev.  Arthur  Lawrence,  Mr.  A.  A.  Lawrence,  Mr.  Daniel 
Leroy,  Mr.  George  M.  Connarro,  Mr.  J.  C.  Sowdan,  Mr.  J.  Carey, 
Jr.,  Mr.  W.  R.  Robeson,  Mr.  R.  Mason,  Mr.  Junius  S.  Morgan, 
Colonel  Auchmuty,  Mrs.  Auchmuty,  Miss  Ellen  F.  Mason,  Miss 
Ida  M.  Mason,  Mr.  C.  J.  Joy,  Mrs.  Edw.  King,  Mr.  B.  T.  Reed, 
Mr.  Jos.  S.  Fay,  Mr.  Jas.  M.  Beebe,  Mr.  H.  C.  Kiddar,  Mrs.  N.  E. 


294  Led  On  ! 

I  have  bought  and  paid  for  a  house  which  cost  ten 
thousand  dollars,  have  added  four  rooms  to  the  school- 
house  at  a  cost  of  over  three  thousand  dollars,  have  paid 
all  current  expenses  for  the  seven  years.  I  would  like  to 
know  if  the  reader  thinks  it  was  a  delusion  at  the  grave 
of  my  child,  when  I  began  this,  or  was  I  given  a  work  to 
do  by  our  Heavenly  Father  ?  To  God  be  all  the  praise ! 
He  has  honored  me  by  using  me  as  His  agent,  but  He  has 
given  me  the  friends  and  provided  the  means.  Though 
I  have  never  had  an  income,  I  have  only  depended  on  what 
I  could  collect  from  day  to  day. 

I  was  still  at  the  North  when  the  school  opened  for  its 
eighth  year.  Mr.  John  Gadsden  was  still  the  principal, 
and  managed  for  a  while  ;  but  the  yellow  fever  broke  out, 
and  the  Home  boys  returned  into  the  country  until  after 
a  frost.  I  still  had  the  three  thousand  dollars  from  the 
City  Council,  and  a  few  of  the  boys  paid  from  one  dollar 
to  twenty  per  month.  I  must  have  had  a  hard  struggle, 
for  I  see  in  my  diary  of  February  27,  1875,  the  following 

entr3^ :  "  Received  a  letter  from  Mr.  ,  of  New  York, 

very  cold  and  unsympathetic.  O,  I^ord  God,  the  silver 
and  the  gold  are  Thine;  Thou  knowest  how  anxious  my 
heart  is  ;  Thou  knowest  how  I  depend  on  Thee  ;  Thou 
knowest  all  our  needs  ;  Thou  knowest  what  we  are  doing  ; 
Give  us  each  day  our  daily  bread;  O  I^ord  God,  make  my 
work  Thine  ;  make  me  Thine,  and  may  many  deacons, 
priests  and  bishops  be  raised  out  of  this  work  for  Christ's 
sake."     That  entry  tells  the  story  of  these  thirty  years  ; 

Bayliss,  Mr.  Albert  Fearing,  Dr.  George  C.  Shattuck,  Mr.  Wm. 
Niblo,  Mr.  Wm.  Amory,  Mr.  Wm.  Endicott,  Mr.  Jno.  Hogg,  Mr. 
Robt.  Iv.  Kennedy,  Mr.  J.  C.  Hoadley,  Dr.  J.  J.  Crane,  Mrs.  C.  R. 
Goddard,  Mrs.  Russell,  Mrs.  Annie  Ives,  Mr.  Wm.  Goddard,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  S.  G.  Wyman,  Mr.  Fred  S.  Winston,  Mr.  H.  F.  Spauld- 
ing.  These  are  my  principal  helpers,  from  soon  after  my  beginning, 
and  all  of  them  continued  annually  to  assist  me  during  their  life. 


special  Providence.  295 

for  there  has  scarcely  been  a  week  when  it  did  not  de- 
scribe the  situation.  And  none  but  God  knows  what 
a  strain  on  the  nerves,  what  a  drain  on  the  vital  energies 
it  has  been,  and  how  the  sunshine  of  personal  life  has  all 
gone  out  in  the  struggle.  But  for  the  sustaining  grace  of 
God,  and  the  cheerful  encouragement  of  my  dear  wife, 
while  she  was  with  me,  I  would  have  given  up  long  since. 
I  find  in  that  diary  I  was  particularly  low-spirited  on  the 
30th  of  March.  I  had  published  the  first  chapters  of  a 
little  work  on  the  school,  and  it  had  fallen  unappreciated 
from  the  press.  When,  on  the  4th  of  April,  the  widow  of 
an  esteemed  clergyman  called  on  me,  she  said  she  had 
just  read  my  pamphlet,  and  supposed  she  was  behind 
many  others  in  bringing  her  offering.  It  was  fifty  dollars, 
a  very  large  contribution  for  her  limited  means.  On  the 
5th  of  April,  I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Seth  Low,  say- 
ing he  had  just  read  my  pamphlet,  and  if  I  would  send 
him  one  of  my  two-hundred-dollar  endowment  bonds  he 
would  gladly  sign  it.  These  two  cases  came  as  a  reproof 
to  me;  they  seemed  to  say,  '*  O  thou  of  little  faith,  where- 
fore didst  thou  doubt  ?  "  * 

*  This  is  a  good  place  to  remember  an  incident.  I  had  contin- 
ued my  book,  of  which  three  or  four  editions  have  been  published, 
brought  down  to  1880,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  from  1875  to  1880. 
Some  years  after  1880,  I  was  seated  in  my  study,  when  a  lady 
called.  She  asked  me  if  I  was  the  Rev.  Dr.  Porter.  I  told  her, 
"Yes."  She  said  she  had  come  all  the  way  from  St.  Louis,  Mo., 
to  look  into  my  eyes  and  to  take  my  hand,  and  to  thank  me  for 
what  I  had  done  for  her.  I  was  much  surprised,  as  she  was  a  total 
stranger  to  me.  She  said,  "I  have  come  to  see  your  wonderful 
work.  I  had  lost  my  belief  in  God,  for  I  had  lost  ray  faith  in  the 
efficacy  of  prayer,  and  if  there  is  no  efficacy  in  prayer  there  can  be 
no  loving,  merciful  God  and  Father.  For  if  there  is  a  Father  in 
Heaven,  He  must  hear  and  answer  prayer.  By  what  the  world 
calls  chance,  but  what  I  call  Providence,  your  book  was  put  into 
my  hands.    I  read  it  over  three  times,  and  then  knelt  down  and 


296  Led  On  / 

My  good  friend  George  Shrewsbury,  of  whom  I  have 
made  frequent  mention,  died  on  the  8th  of  March.  He 
was  the  donor  of  five  hundred  dollars  to  the  Academy. 
He  was  a  member  of  the  City  Council,  though  a  colored 
man,  and  he  represented  the  conservative  element  in  that 
board.  I  acted  as  one  of  his  pall-bearers,  and  assisted  in 
bearing  his  body  to  the  grave  ;  a  thing  it  required  some 
nerve  to  do  in  this  community,  but  my  friends  all  com- 
mended me  for  doing  it.  I  was  still  during  that  year  very 
much  pressed  for  money.  I  owed  a  bill  for  three  hundred 
and  twenty-four  dollars  which  had  to  be  paid  on  the  17th. 
On  the  8th  of  March  I  received  a  letter  from  Miss  Cathe- 
rine Wolfe,  enclosing  a  check  for  two  hundred  dollars.  I 
had  made  no  appeal  to  her,  but  she  wrote  saying  that  she 
thought  it  might  help  a  little.  She  had  previously  given 
me,  in  the  fall,  one  thousand  dollars.  I  received  from 
different  sources  enough  to  pay  my  note  on  the  17th.  On 
the  29th,  the  mattress  maker,  a  colored  man,  came  for 
one  hundred  dollars  I  owed  him.  I  did  not  have  a  dollar 
in  the  bank,  but  I  gave  him  a  check,  telling  him,  as  it 
was  after  bank  hours,  he  could  not  present  it  until  next 
day.  I  determined  to  put  a  note  in  the  bank  to  meet  it. 
That  night  the  choir  boys  were  at  my  house,  when  Mr. 
W.  F.  Winston,  of  New  York,  called  to  see  me.  The  next 
day  he  went  with  me  to  see  the  colored  children's  school, 
at  the  Marine  Hospital,  and  then  visited  my  academy. 
When  leaving  he  handed  me  a  check  for  a  hundred  dol- 
lars. I  deposited  it  before  my  check  to  the  colored  man 
came  in.  These  coincidences,  and  they  have  been  num- 
berless, are  only  things  of  chance  to  some  minds,  but 
thank  God,  they  help  to  strengthen  my  faith  in  the 
providence  of  a  personal,  present  Father. 

said,  '  My  Lord  and  my  God.'  You  have  been  the  means  of  giv- 
ing me  back  my  faith,  and  I  have  come  to  thank  you  for  it."  I 
was  very  grateful  for  this,  even  if  the  book  never  brought  me  a 
dollar. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 


service:   with   the   ANGKlyS 

/  am  inopportunely  seized  with  sudden  sickness — A  time  of 
rest  i?i  which  I  hold  service  with  the  a^igels — My  cojiji- 
dence  in  God  is  justified  by  convalescence — My  financial 
troubles — Friendly  help  —  The  far-reaching  results  of  my 
pamphlet, 

MY  story  is  now  brought  down  to  the  i6th  of  May, 
1875.  Whit-Monday,  the  day  before,  we  had  a 
glorious  service  at  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion. 
The  congregation  was  large,  the  school  was  full,  the 
music  was  devotional,  and  unusually  good.  The  Rev.  Dr. 
DuBose,  then  Chaplain  of  the  University  of  the  South, 
preached  on  Whitsunday.  The  Sunday-schools  of  the 
different  city  parishes  assembled  at  the  church  to  practise 
for  the  anniversary  service  next  day.  I  had  been  with 
them,  practised  all  the  tunes,  and  had  returned  home,  and 
was  preparing  one  of  a  series  of  lectures  on  the  Pra3^er- 
Book,  when  about  ten  at  night,  I  was  called  to  see  a  man 
who  was  supposed  to  be  dying.  I  remained  until  after 
twelve  o'clock  with  him,  and  had  resumed  the  writing  of 
my  lecture  when,  without  warning,  I  was  attacked  with 
a  hemorrhage.  It  was  a  great  shock,  for  I  had  no  cold  or 
cough  ;  and  although  tired  and  wearied  and  worn  had 
not  the  slightest  suspicion  of  my  condition.     In  the  very 

297 


298  Led  On  I 


midst  of  work,  everything  going  on  well  save  the  finances, 
which  were  considerably  in  arrears,  with  two  months  and 
a  half  still  before  me,  I,  apparently  the  mainstay,  was  thus 
stricken  down  helpless.  It  did  seem  desperate,  but  I 
rallied,  however,  and  seemed  to  have  recovered.  During 
the  winter,  Mr.  Wm.  A.  Courtenay  and  Col.  Thomas 
Simons,  Major  R.  C.  Gilchrist,  and  myself  had  been  very 
busy  inducing  the  Washington  Light  Infantry,  of  which 
I  was,  and  still  am,  chaplain,  to  accept  an  invitation  to 
take  part  in  the  Bunker  Hill  celebration  ;  for  we  had  to 
create  a  public  sentiment  at  home  which  would  make  it 
possible  for  them  to  go.  At  length  it  was  all  arranged, 
the  day  came,  and  I  was  to  go  with  them.  Nearly 
four  weeks  had  passed  since  my  attack  of  sickness  and  I 
felt  quite  well  again.  The  company  was  on  board  the 
steamer  for  New  York,  my  trunk  was  packed,  Mr.  F.  A. 
Mitchell,  one  of  my  friends  and  vestrj^men,  had  come  to 
bid  me  good-bye,  the  carriage  was  at  the  door,  and  while 
talking  to  him,  the  hemorrhage  returned,  this  time  very 
much  more  severe  than  at  first. 

Of  course  this  ended  my  trip  to  Boston.  As  soon  as  I 
could  be  moved  I  was  taken  to  Aiken,  and  Doctor  Ogier 
said  I  had  not  a  month  to  live.  Thank  God,  I  did  not 
lose  my  faith.  Firmly  convinced  that  my  work  was  God's, 
I  felt  assured  it  would  be  carried  on  by  Him  through 
every  difficulty.  If  He  had  used  me  as  far  as  He  wished, 
and  was  about  to  take  me  to  Himself,  He  could  raise  up 
some  other  agent  to  do  His  will.  His  hand  was  laid 
heavily  upon  me.  I  was  forbidden  to  write,  even  to 
speak,  but  I  felt  by  some  means  God  would  sustain  the 
work.  The  blow  to  me  personally  was  a  severe  one,  but 
I  had  no  doubt  He  would  make  it  conduce  to  His  glory, 
and  to  the  good  of  the  work,  and  if  what  has  gone  before 
has  excited  any  surprise  and  interest,  that  which  is  still 
to  be  told  will  show  that  this  sickness  was  the  instrumental 


Service  with  the  Angels.  299 

means  of  far  more  wonderful  results  than  any  that  have 
been  as  yet  recorded.  My  not  going  with  the  company, 
and  the  cause  of  my  absence,  was  of  course  published  in 
the  papers,  and  was  copied  in  the  New  York  Churchman. 
Letters  of  sympathy  poured  in  on  me.  Mr.  Howard  Potter 
wrote,  ' '  I  need  not  tell  you  how  profoundly  I  feel  for  you 
and  the  cause  you  represent.  Both  you  and  it  have  my 
deepest  sympathy  and  warmest  admiration,  but  you  know 
in  Whose  hands  both  you  and  3^our  work  are,  and  to 
Him  and  to  His  grace  I  commend  you,  in  perfect  confi- 
dence that  your  heart  will  be  kept  in  the  peace  which  is 
promised  those  whose  minds  are  stayed  on  Him.  I  will 
send  you  in  a  few  days  what  I  can  collect  for  you. ' ' 

Mr.  Potter  very  shortly  afterwards  sent  me  nine  hun- 
dred dollars,  Mr.  A.  A.  Lawrence,  of  Boston,  sent  me 
money  and  a  loving  letter.  Even  from  London,  Mr. 
Junius  S.  Morgan,  whom  I  had  met  at  Mr.  R.  M.  Mason's, 
when  he  gave  me  a  check  for  five  hundred  dollars,  wrote 
me,  expressing  his  sympathy,  and  said  of  my  work  :  "  I  do 
not  doubt  great  good  will  come  of  it,  and  my  prayer  is, 
that  you  may  be  long  spared  to  superintend  and  develop 
the  good  work."  And  he  enclosed  a  check  to  help  me. 
These  are  specimens  of  the  letters  and  the  character  of 
those  to  whose  kind  feeling  God  had  given  me  entrance. 
This  sympathy  was  very  soothing,  and  the  pecuniary  aid 
voluntarily  sent  to  me  greatly  relieved  the  situation.  Still 
there  was  a  deficiency,  for  the  school  was  going  on,  up 
to  the  first  of  August.  I  recuperated  very  slowly.  Doctor 
Amory  Coffin,  of  Aiken,  was  very  kind,  and  Mr.  Finlay,  a 
Presbyterian  friend,  put  his  pony  at  my  disposal,  and  I 
took  a  short  ride  in  the  pines  daily.  It  was  my  habit  to 
take  my  Bible,  Prayer-Book,  and  Hymnal,  and  sit  in  the 
pine  grove,  and  hold  ser\dce  with  the  angels.  On  the 
14th  of  August,  I  came  to  the  psalter  for  the  day,  the 
Seventy-first  Psalm.     I  had  then  the  same  sensations  I  ex- 


300  Led  On! 

perienced  at  the  grave  of  my  child,  on  the  25th  of  October, 
1867.  I  seemed  to  be  enveloped  in  a  Spiritual  Presence, 
and  the  first  words  of  the  Psalm  seemed  to  be  my  own. 
**  In  Thee,  O  lyord,  have  I  put  my  trust,  let  me  never  be 
put  to  confusion,  but  rid  me  and  deliver  me  in  Thy  right- 
eousness, incline  Thine  ear  unto  and  save  me.  Be  Thou 
my  stronghold  whereunto  I  may  always  resort.  Thou  hast 
promised  to  help  me,  for  Thou  art  my  house  of  defence, 
and  my  castle." 

I  never  before  had  felt  all  the  comprehensiveness  of 
these  words.  The  feeling  of  devotion  was  so  deep,  that 
when  I  reached  the  fourth  verse,  "  Thou  I^ord  God  art 
the  thing  that  I  long  for.  Thou  art  my  hope  even  from 
my  youth,  through  Thee  have  I  been  hoi  den  up  ever 
since  I  was  born.  Thou  art  He  that  took  me  out  of  my 
mother's  womb,  my  praise  shall  always  be  of  Thee,"  I 
knelt  on  the  ground  and  said,  "  Father,  I  can  say  this  as 
truly  as  the  Psalmist.  I  do  not  remember  the  time  when 
I  did  not  love  Thee  ;  why,  then,  am  I  cast  down  ?  "  I 
read  on,  and  when  I  came  to  the  eighth  verse,  "  Cast  me 
not  away  in  the  time  of  age,  forsake  me  not  when  my 
strength  faileth  me,"  again  I  knelt  and  prayed,  that  God 
would  graciously  hear  this  prayer.  I  read  on  to  the  six- 
teenth verse,  * '  Forsake  me  not,  O  God,  in  mine  old  age, 
when  I  am  gray-headed,  until  I  have  showed  Thy  strength 
to  this  generation,  and  Thy  power  to  them  that  are  yet  to 
come. ' '  Had  I  been  spoken  to,  and  told  directly  that  my 
prayer  had  been  answered,  the  effect  upon  me  could  not 
have  been  greater.  I  knelt  again  alone  in  the  quiet  depths 
of  the  forest,  the  bright  summer  sky  above  me,  that  was 
looking  up  as  it  were  in  the  face  of  God,  and  thanked  Him 
that  He  had  granted  me  this  respite,  that  I  might  have 
more  time  to  work  for  Him  here,  and  that  He  was  willing 
to  use  me,  His  most  unworthy  servant,  to  magnify  His 
grace,  and  to  manifest  His  power.     I  could  scarcely  keep 


Service  with  the  Ajtgels.  301 

still  long  enough  to  finish  all  the  morning  prayers.  I  did, 
however,  and  mounting  my  horse,  I  cantered  back  to  the 
village  of  Aiken.  Hitherto,  I  had  not  dared  to  ride  faster 
than  a  walk.  Going  into  my  wife's  room,  I  said  to  her: 
*  *  Wife,  I  cannot  explain  it  all  now,  but  I  have  had  a  mes- 
sage from  God,  through  the  Seventy-first  Psalm.  I  am 
not  going  to  die,  I  will  soon  be  well.  I  have  to  bear  wit- 
ness for  God,  as  to  His  strength  and  power,  in  this  unbe- 
lieving age.  I  do  not  know  where  the  help  is  coming 
from  which  is  so  much  needed,  but  come  it  will.  Let  us 
kneel  and  thank  God  for  His  great  goodness." 

My  wife  burst  into  tears  of  thankfulness  at  seeing  me 
so  cheerful  and  hopeful,  for  she,  dear  helpmate,  had  been 
bearing  a  heavy  load  to  keep  up  her  spirits  in  the  presence 
of  my  depression  and  hopeless  condition.  And  we  knelt 
and  thanked  God  for  His  goodness.  Two  days  passed, 
and  in  the  mail  arrived  a  budget  of  letters.  The  first  I 
opened  was  from  Mrs.  W.  H.  Aspinwall,  of  New  York, 
dated  Tarrytown,  August  14th:  "  My  dear  Mr.  Porter,  I 
see  by  The  Churchnan  that  you  are  still  sick  at  Aiken.  I 
know  you  must  be  disturbed,  and  to  help  relieve  your 
troubles,  I  beg  to  enclose  a  check,  which  I  hope  will  be 
of  some  service  to  you.  May  God  spare  your  valuable 
life,  and  soon  restore  you  to  health  and  strength. ' ' 

Before  opening  the  other  letters  (there  were  nine  in 
all),  I  said  to  my  wife,  *'  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  relief  was 
coming  ?  Look  at  the  date  of  that  letter  ;  Mrs.  Aspinwall 
must  have  been  writing  it  at  the  very  hour  I  was  on  my 
knees  in  the  pine  woods. ' '  I  had  not  had  one  word  of  com- 
munication with  Mrs.  Aspinwall  for  a  year.  The  other 
letters  were  all  dated  14th  of  August,  and  contained 
checks  unsolicited.  Thus  my  pressing  necessities  were 
relieved.  I  thanked  God  for  this  manifestation  of  His 
loving  care.  My  health  continued  to  improve,  and  on  the 
9th  of  September  I  left  Aiken  for  Charleston,  and  on  the 


302  Led  On  / 

17th  took  the  steamer  for  New  York,  in  charge  of  twenty- 
nine  of  my  boys,  passed  free  by  Mr.  W.  P.  Clyde,  on  their 
way  to  Union  College,  Schenectady.  On  our  way  up  the 
Hudson,  the  river  was  low  and  the  trip  was  long.  Whether 
the  change  from,  the  South  brought  it  out,  or  what  I  do 
not  know,  but  when  I  reached  Newport,  with  my  youngest 
son,  Charles,  then  a  little  boy,  I  was  stricken  down  with 
a  fever  at  the  house  of  my  kind  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Daniel  Le  Roy,  and  was  desperately  ill.  I  knew  I  was 
not  to  die  ;  the  message  in  the  pine  woods  was  in  my 
heart,  and  under  God,  by  the  skilful  treatment  of  good 
Doctor  King,  and  the  tender  nursing  of  my  friends,  I  was 
restored.  Mrs.  J.  W.  Chanler,  seeing  how  very  miserable 
I  looked  after  getting  about,  insisted  on  my  going  to 
Saratoga.  She  paid  my  expenses  there  for  a  month.  A 
few  friends  there  gave  me  some  money  for  my  work,  and 
I  returned  home,  preaching  at  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Communion  on  Advent  Sunday,  the  first  time  in  seven 
months,  with  no  sign  of  the  two  serious  sicknesses  I  had 
passed  through.  It  is  now  twent3^-seven  years  since  the 
events  above  recorded,  and  the  work  that  has  been  done 
is  before  the  Church  and  before  the  world.  It  has  not 
been  in  a  corner.  Some  who  read  this  book  may  know 
about  it  ;  many  will  not  have  heard  of  it:  but  if  any 
one  doubts,  I  beg  him  to  make  inquiries,  if  these  things 
can  be  so  ?  Come  and  see,  and  if  this  recital  strengthens 
the  faith  of  anyone,  I  shall  not  know  it,  but  God  will,  and 
it  will  go  on  showing  God's  strength  to  this  generation, 
and  His  power  to  those  that  are  yet  to  come.  Is  it  asked, 
*  *  Have  these  visitations  been  often  granted  you  ?  "  I 
answer  :  *  *  No  ;  I  recall  three — the  night  I  gave  m3^self  up 
to  the  ministry  ;  again,  at  the  grave  of  my  child;  and  this 
in  the  pine  woods  near  Aiken."  If  I  have  failed  to  con- 
vince my  readers,  then  they  must  account  for  this  history 
as  best  they  can. 


Service  with  the  Angels.  303 

The  visit  of  the  Washington  I^ight  Infantry  to  Boston 
in  1875,  has  passed  into  history.  Their  enthusiastic  re- 
ception as  representatives  of  South  Carolina,  carrying 
their  old  historic  flag,  of  Eutaw,  which  had  waved  at 
Eutaw  Springs,  and  Cowpens,  in  the  Revolutionary  War, 
when  Col.  Wm.  Washington  gave  Colonel  Tarleton  and 
his  British  forces  such  a  merciless  thrashing.  This  flag 
is  of  red  damask,  and  had  been  the  seat  of  a  parlor  chair, 
which  Colonel  Washington's  sweetheart  cut  out  of  the 
chair,  and  gave  to  Colonel  Washington,  as  he  had  no  flag. 
In  all  that  throng  in  Boston,  this  small  command  was  the 
observed  of  all  observers. 

Mr.  A.  A.  Lawrence  wrote  me  from  near  Boston  on  the 
17th  June,  1875  :  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  have  not 
recovered  your  strength  so  as  to  come  here.  But  it 
would  have  been  a  great  risk  under  any  circumstances. 
The  excitement  would  have  been  too  great  ;  you  can 
hardly  estimate  it,  without  seeing  the  expression  in  Bos- 
ton to-day.  Your  friends  will  tell  you  about  it.  The 
revulsion  of  feeling  is  complete,  and  it  goes  to  prove  what 
I  told  you  a  year  ago,  namely,  our  people  only  have  to 
know  the  trouble  to  range  themselves  on  the  side  that  is 
oppressed,  and  against  the  oppressors.  What  you  have 
done  to  bring  this  about  will  be  a  lasting  comfort  and 
satisfaction  to  you,  and  it  will  come  at  the  right  time, 
when  you  most  need  cheering  up.  May  God  bless  you  in 
sickness  and  in  health  !  ' ' 

That  visit  of  this  small  company  did  indeed  revolutionize 
the  feeling  throughout  New  England  and  the  North,  and 
years  after  ex-President  Hayes  told  Mr.  Courtenay  at 
a  meeting  of  the  trustees  of  the  Peabody  Fund,  of  which 
both  were  members,  that  the  political  influence  of  that 
visit  had  made  it  possible  for  him,  when  President,  to 
recognize  the  government  of  South  Carolina  under  Gen- 
eral Hampton.     As  I  have  said,  Mr.  W.  A.  Courtenay, 


304  Led  On  / 


Major  Gilchrist,  Col.  T.  Y.  Simons,  and  myself  were  tlie 
moving  spirits  in  that  transaction.  I  still  look  back  with 
much  satisfaction  to  my  share  in  the  event. 

While  I  was  lying  sick  in  Newport,  at  Mr.  Daniel  Le 
Roy's  cottage,  in  the  fall  of  1875,  I  received  a  letter  from 
Miss  K.  Waterman,  of  Providence,  Rhode  Island.  It  had 
been  sent  to  Charleston  and  forwarded  to  me.  ' '  Dear  sir, 
please  find  enclosed  a  check  for  one  hundred  dollars,  for 
your  Institute.  [At  that  time  it  was  known  as  the  Holy 
Communion  Church  Institute,  changed  by  the  Board  of 
Trustees  some  j^ears  later  to  the  Porter  Military  Academy.] 
Although  an  Episcopalian,  and  trying  to  keep  pretty 
well  informed  on  what  is  done  in  the  Church,  I  heard  of 
your  work  for  the  first  time  about  two  months  ago,  through 
your  report.     On  starting  on  a  little  excursion,  with  my 

friend,  Miss  B ,  a  Baptist,  she  said  to  me,  '  I  have  a 

pamphlet  which  I  wish  you  to  read  ;  it  was  handed  to  me 
by  my  cousin,  a  Unitarian,  for  me  to  read,  and  give  to 
another  lady,  but  I  thought  it  so  wonderful  and  interest- 
ing, that  I  decided  to  take  it  with  me,  and  see  if  I  could 
not  induce  people  to  aid  so  excellent  an  object.'  I  read 
it,  and  shared  her  enthusiasm,  and  we  took  it  to  Lake 
Mohunk,  a  charming  quiet  watering-place,  near  the  Hud- 
son River.  Here  we  took  pains  to  have  it  read  by  one 
and  another,  and  as  a  number  of  wealthy  people  seemed 
interested  in  it,  and  asked  many  questions  about  it,  I  hope 
ere  this  you  have  had  more  than  one  contribution  as  the 
result.  Rev.  Wiliam  Leonard,  of  Brooklyn  [now  Bishop 
of  Ohio]  told  us  that  he  was  acquainted  with  you,  and 
highly  commended  your  efforts.  Finally,  he  gathered  a 
little  circle  round  him,  and  read  your  pamphlet  aloud. 
If  you  could  send  me  two  copies,  or  direct  me  where  to 
get  them,  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged.  I  heard  with  great 
regret  that  your  health  was  much  impaired  ;  I  hope  that 
it  is  now  restored,  and  that  you  may  long  be  spared  to 


Service  with  the  Angels.  305 


labor  in  the  noble  cause  for  which  j^ou  have  done  so  much, 
I  never  heard  of  a  work  more  evidently  of  God,  nor  one 
which  was  so  eminently  and  wonderfull}^  blessed  of  Him. 
May  He  still  continue  His  favors,  granting  all  needed 
spiritual  and  temporal  blessing  !  " 

I  had  never  heard  of  the  lady  until  this  letter  came.  I 
afterwards  found  out  she  had  relatives  in  South  CaroHna, 
the  Thurston  family.  I  have  had  several  of  her  relatives 
in  this  school  as  beneficiaries  ;  I  had  one  for  three  years, 
until  his  graduation,  last  year,  and  have  one  now,  in  1897. 
Mr.  Alex.  Brown,  that  noble  Christian  gentleman  of 
Philadelphia,  was  one  of  those  who  heard  the  pamphlet 
read.  He  said  nothing,  but  went  to  his  room,  and  wrote 
a  warm  letter,  enclosing  a  check  for  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,  and  this  he  did  on  the  15th  of  May,  from  1875 
until  he  died.  Nor  was  this  all.  Many  kind  letters  I  re- 
ceived, and  whenever  I  was  sorely  pressed,  a  letter  to  him 
always  brought  a  response,  sometimes  one  thousand  dol- 
lars, sometimes  five  hundred;  but  this  intermediate  giving 
never  interrupted  that  annual  two  hundred  and  fifty, 
which  came  without  a  reminder  every  year  until  the  day 
of  his  death.  Some  years  after,  during  a  visit  at  Mohunk, 
as  the  guest  of  Mr.  Smiley,  I  addressed  a  large  audience 
on  Sunday  afternoon.  Mrs.  Ed.  Morgan  gave  me  a  check 
for  five  hundred  dollars,  and  a  large  offering,  over  a  thou- 
sand dollars  besides,  was  taken  up  that  afternoon,  and  all 
of  this  came  from  the  Unitarian  lady  giving  my  pamphlet 
to  a  Baptist  friend,  who  gave  it  to  Miss  E.  Waterman;  and 
this  was  the  pamphlet  which  I  thought  had  fallen  unap- 
preciated. ' '  O  ye  of  little  faith,  wherefore  did  ye  doubt  ?  ' ' 
Miss  Waterman,  finding  I  was  so  near,  sent  my  pamphlet 
to  my  reverend  brethren  in  Providence.  The  Rev.  Dr. 
David  H.  Greer  was  one  of  them,  and  the  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop 
Clark,  who  extended  me  an  invitation  to  visit  Providence, 
which  I  did,  receiving  some  thirteen  hundred  dollars,  be- 


20 


3o6 


Led  On! 


sides  making  many  friends.  Now  it  is  right  to  recount 
right  here  how  all  this  sympathy  and  aid  came  of  a  five- 
dollar  bill.  It  happened  in  this  way.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Tustin,  who  had  been  a  Baptist  minister  in  Charleston, 
but  in  charge  of  the  Huguenot  congregation,  had  become 
very  friendly  with  me,  and  was  eventually  ordained  by 
Bishop  lyittlejohn,  in  Rome,  to  the  priesthood  of  the 
Church.      He   had  sent  from  Sweden  his  wife's  annual 

contribution  to  my  work  to  Miss  B ,  the  Unitarian 

lady  who  had  given  the  pamphlet  to  the  Baptist,  and  she 
to  Miss  Waterman.  When  she  sent  the  five  dollars  she 
did  not  know  that  I  was  a  clergyman,  or  what  the  five 
dollars  were  for,  but  in  acknowledging  its  receipt,  I  had 
sent  her  the  pamphlet  which  did  so  much  good  work. 
Hence  her  efforts  on  my  behalf.  I  pray  God  if  this  book 
ever  sees  the  light,  it  may  be  used  in  the  same  way, 
whether  I  be  alive  or  dead,  for  the  work  is  the  same  great 
philanthropic  work  it  was  then,  and  needs  all  the  help  the 
generous  will  give. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


MORE  TRAVEI^S   ABROAD 


The  adjnission  of  colored  parishes  into  the  Diocesan  Conven- 
tion— A  burning  question,  on  which  I  espouse  the  cause 
of  the  blacks — A  fatal  compromise — /  succumb  to  the  toils 
and  anxieties  of  my  work — I  seek  for  renewed  health  in  a 
voyage  to  England —  Thence  I  travel  over  the  continent  of 
Europe — The  kindness  of  English  friends. 


THE  Convention  of  the  Diocese  of  South  Carolina  met 
at  St.  Philip's  Church,  on  the  13th  of  May,  1875, 
and  in  the  journal  of  that  date  is  this  harmless-looking 
entry  :  ' '  The  Bishop  communicated  the  application  of  St. 
Mark's  Church,  Charleston,  for  admission  to  the  Conven- 
tion. ' '  It  was  in  the  regular  course  of  business,  and  there 
was  a  standing  committee  on  the  admission  of  new  parishes, 
of  which  Rev.  P.  T.  Shand,  D.D.,  Mr.  Jas.  M.  Davis,  and 
Mr.  Wm.  Parker  were  members.  The  regular  course 
was  to  refer  the  application  to  that  committee.  But  St. 
Mark's  was  a  colored  congregation,  of  which  Rev.  J.  B. 
Seabrook,  an  old  white  ex-planter  and  slave-holder,  was 
rector.  Mr.  Edw.  McCrady  rose  immediately,  and  made 
the  following  motion  :  "  Resolved,  that  the  application  of 
St.  Mark's  congregation  for  adm.ission  into  union  with  this 
Convention,  be  referred  to  a  commission  to  be  appointed 
by  the  Bishop,  to  report  to  the  next  Convention  upon  the 

307 


3o8  Led  On  I 


same,  and  all  its  relations  to  the  Church  and  constitution 
of  this  diocese. ' ' 

I  did  not  know  that  the  Bishop  had  received  this  peti- 
tion of  St.  Mark's  Church,  nor  that  he  proposed  to  offer 
it.  I  did  know  that  Bishop  Davis,  in  1866,  had  re- 
ceived the  vestry  of  this  congregation  at  my  house  in 
Rutledge  Avenue,  when  they  asked  if  they  then  should 
apply  for  admission,  and  he  had  told  them  he  thought 
not.  They  were  made  up  of  the  colored  members  of  St. 
Philip's,  St.  Michael's,  Grace,  St.  Paul's,  and  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Communion,  in  which  parishes  they  had 
worshipped,  as  part  of  such  congregations,  before  the  war, 
but  had  since  separated  from  the  whites,  and  formed  this 
congregation,  and  were  worshipping  at  the  Orphans' 
Chapel,  under  the  rectorship  of  the  Rev.  J.  B.  Seabrook. 
The  Bishop  told  them  they  were  not  yet  established,  they 
had  no  church  building,  and  it  was  not  clear  that  they 
could  maintain  their  organization.  It  would,  he  added, 
be  wiser  to  wait,  and  when  the  time  came,  he  would  be 
ready  to  welcome  them  into  the  Convention.*  I  was 
reading  the  morning  paper,  as  it  was  only  routine  busi- 
ness, but  as  soon  as  Mr.  McCrady  offered  his  resolution,  I 
dropped  the  paper,  and  looked  around  the  church,  to  see 
if  no  one  would  meet  it  ;  as  no  one  moved,  I  rose,  and 
said  :  "  Mr.  President,  is  not  that  an  extraordinary  reso- 
lution ?  We  have  a  committee  appointed  to  consider 
all  such  applications  ;  have  we  lost  confidence  in  that 
committee  ?  What  does  the  gentleman  from  St.  Philip's 
mean  ? ' ' 

*  The  time  never  came  in  his  administration.  He  was  blind, 
and  sick,  and  feeble,  and  was  not  equal  to  the  emergency,  and 
they  waited  for  nine  years.  Then  Bishop  Howe  thought  the  time 
had  come,  and  took  counsel  only  from  the  Canons  and  Constitu- 
tion of  the  Church,  from  his  own  Catholic  spirit,  and  from  the 
Divine  Master,  who  established  His  Church  for  all  mankind. 


More  Ti'avels  Abroad.  309 


This  brought  Mr.  McCrady  to  his  feet,  and  he  gave  a 
lawyer's  intricate  reasons  for  his  motion.  I  repHed,  by  say- 
ing: "Why  should  we  dodge  the  question  raised  ?  Sooner 
or  later  that  petition  had  to  come.  It  was  the  logical  re- 
sult of  the  surrender  at  Appomattox,  and  all  this  opposition 
springs  from  the  fact  that  St.  Mark's  is  a  colored  congre- 
gation. Let  us  here  and  now  say,  that  if  they  have 
complied  with  all  the  requirements  of  the  constitu- 
tion, they  be  admitted  into  union.  Or,  like  men,  let  us 
say  at  once  they  vShall  not  be  admitted  because  they  are 
colored,  and  no  colored  delegates  shall  sit  in  this  Conven- 
tion." 

Mr.  George  A.  Trenholm  sustained  me,  so  did  Col.  E. 
M.  Seabrook  and  others  ;  while  Judge  H.  D.  Lessesne, 
Mr.  Meminger,  and  others  ranged  themselves  on  Mr. 
McCrady' s  side.  The  discussion  w^as  very  warm,  but  an 
adjournment  was  made  before  the  vote  was  taken.  The 
next  day  the  discussion  was  resumed,  motion  after  motion 
followed,  but  all  w^ere  lost,  and  finally  Mr.  McCrady' s 
resolution  was  adopted.  That  year  was  not  unimproved 
by  those  in  the  opposition,  and  when  the  Convention  met 
in  Columbia,  May  10,  1876,  the  whole  diocese  was  in 
fever  heat,  and  on  the  second  day,  Mr.  McCrady  read  the 
report  of  the  commission  appointed  under  his  resolution, 
which  was  signed  but  by  three  of  the  commission. 

In  the  providence  of  God,  the  majority  of  the  commis- 
sion had  dwindled  away  by  sickness,  removal,  or  death, 
and  the  minority,  as  appointed,  became  the  majority,  and 
had  their  first  say.  Among  others  I  made  a  speech,  which 
was  published  in  the  News  and  Courier,  in  full,  and  is 
therefore  on  record  in  the  annals  of  the  State,  and  I  have 
never  been  ashamed  of  it,  nor  have  ever  doubted  I  was 
right.  Of  course  I  opposed  Mr.  McCrady' s  report  with 
all  the  force  I  possessed.  At  the  close  of  the  debate,  the 
Bishop  addressed  the  Convention  at  length,  and  his  speech, 


3IO  Led  On! 


as  recorded  in  the  Journal  of  1876,  is  instructive  and  in- 
teresting reading  to-day. 

This  controversy  went  on  for  thirteen  years,  and  shook 
the  Church  in  the  diocese  to  its  centre.  It  was  a  sad 
and  a  miserable  time.  Friends  and  families  were  divided  ; 
the  Bishop  was  an  intense  sufferer,  but  he  was  unflinching 
in  his  convictions.  His  life  was  a  martyrdom  for  the 
truth,  and  he  went  to  his  grave  with  the  iron  lodged  in 
his  soul.  He  was  unfortunately  a  Northerner,  a  New 
Hampshire  man  by  birth,  but  he  had  been  in  the  diocese 
since  he  was  twenty-one  years  old,  and  had  been  the 
idolized  rector  of  St.  Philip's  Church.  But  all  the  love 
was  forgotten  in  that  bitter  contest.  As  for  myself,  I 
stood  by  him  through  good  and  evil  report,  loving  the 
people,  working  for  them,  educating  and  supporting  their 
children,  and  being  a  Southerner,  an  ex-slaveholder  and 
planter,  the  son  and  the  grandson  of  slaveholders,  it  could 
not  be  attributed  to  me  that  it  was  my  foreign  birth,  but 
rather  that  I  was  a  traitor  to  my  section.  But  as  the 
Bishop  stood  on  Catholic  ground,  so  did  I,  and  fought  as 
long  as  it  was  possible  to  fight.  It  was  only  when  Col. 
John  Haskel  and  Mr.  Robert  Shand,  in  Anderson,  rose  in 
Convention  and  told  us  we  knew  they  were  with  us,  but 
they  never  would  be  permitted  to  meet  with  us  again  un- 
less some  way  was  found  to  pacify  the  diocese,  that  I  came 
forward  and  offered  resolutions  which  will  be  found  in  the 
Journal  of  1888,  of  the  Convention  held  in  Anderson. 
These  were  unanimously  carried,  and  paved  the  way  for 
rehabilitation.  It  was  a  compromise,  but  it  stilled  the 
tempest,  and  in  time  brought  back  all  the  parishes  which 
had  seceded,  save  St.  Paul's  and  St.  Michael's, — the  latter 
of  which,  under  the  judicious  guidance  of  the  Rev.  John 
Kershaw,  the  present  rector,  will  undoubtedly  soon  return 
to  the  Convention. 

The  ecclesiastical  troubles  of  1875- 1876   had   greatly 


More  Travels  Abroad.  311 


absorbed  me.  The  political  atmosphere  was  thick  and 
gloomy.  I  had  collected  no  money  anywhere,  and  had 
been  compelled  to  do  exterior  repairs,  and  make  additions 
to  buildings,  and  I  saw  that  without  some  help  I  could 
but  face  a  debt  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars  at  the  close  of 
the  term,  in  July,  1876.  So  I  wrote  a  letter  to  a  very  rich 
man  in  New  York — he  died  leaving  an  estate  to  an  only 
son,  worth  near  one  hundred  millions  of  dollars.  He 
knew  me  well  ;  I  had  dined  at  his  house  with  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Dix,  and  he  and  his  wife  had  been  kind  to  my  work,  and 
yet,  for  no  reason  whatever  that  I  could  account  for,  save 
the  political  feeling  about  the  time  of  General  Grant's 
election  to  the  presidency,  which  ran  quite  bitter  against 
the  South,  I  received  from  him  the  coldest  kind  of  a  letter, 
in  which  he  stated  that  he  had  so  many  calls  immediately 
around  him  that  he  had  nothing  to  give  to  anything  be- 
yond. Well,  I  thought,  if  that  be  true  of  one  of  the  richest 
men  in  America,  what  is  the  use  of  telling  your  needs  to 
anyone  else  ?     So  I  did  not. 

Thus  matters  went  on,  each  day  putting  me  deeper  in 
debt  for  teachers'  salaries,  and  daily  expenses  for  this  large 
school  ;  till  without  one  cheering  event  to  show  that  God's 
watchful  care  was  over  us,  the  anxiety  to  which  I  was  con- 
stantly subjected  began  to  tell  upon  my  enfeebled  con- 
stitution. It  was  about  the  time  of  my  severe  illness  the 
year  before,  and  my  appearance  excited  alarm  among  my 
friends.  One  day  in  May,  1876,  Mr.  Charles  T.  Lowndes, 
whom  I  met  in  Broad  Street,  remarked,  "  You  are  look- 
ing very  sick  and  feeble."  I  said,  "  I  do  not  look  worse 
than  I  feel."  He  went  on,  "  You  must  go  to  Europe." 
"  Why,  Mr.  Lowndes,"  I  said,  '*  I  could  as  easily  go  to 
the  moon."  "  No,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  you  must  go  ;  you 
have  made  yourself  necessary  to  the  Church  and  to  the 
State.     You  must  not  die  yet  if  it  can  be  prevented. ' ' 

I   thanked  him  for  his  kindness,   but  saw    no    way 


312  Led  On! 


by  which  the  visit  could  be   accomplished,    and  so  we 
parted. 

About  ten  days  afterguards  Mr.  I^owndes  inquired  if  I 
had  made  any  arrangements  to  go.  I  told  him  I  had  not 
thought  of  it,  except  to  thank  him  for  his  kindness.  ' '  I 
have  thought  of  it, ' '  he  answered,  ' '  and  have  made  ar- 
rangements for  you  to  go.  As  I  dare  say  your  basket  is 
empty  at  your  school,  I  have  already  sent  you  my  annual 
subscription  ' '  (which,  by  the  way,  w^as  a  large  one),  ' '  and 
I  can  send  you  some  more  money,  but  if  I  do  it  will  only 
go  into  the  general  fund  and  be  consumed.  If  I  send  you 
abroad  and  you  recover  your  health,  I  will  be  doing  more 
for  the  school  than  merely  paying  its  present  baker's 
bill." 

Thus  saying,  he  asked  me  to  step  into  his  counting- 
house.  There  he  filled  up  a  check,  and  said,  ' '  Now,  sir, 
when  3'ou  get  on  the  other  side  let  me  know  and  I  will 
send  3'ou  more." 

I  was  quite  overwhelmed  by  this  unexpected  kindness, 
but  feeling  I  had  not  in  an}^  way  moved  in  the  matter,  I 
believed  it  was  God's  method  of  helping  on  my  work.  I 
frankl}^  thanked  Mr.  Lowndes  for  his  generous  and 
thoughtful  kindness,  and  expressed  m}-  willingness  to  go, 
provided  my  vestry  consented,  which  the}^  promptly  did. 
Several  friends  hearing  of  this,  notably  Mr.  Theo.  D. 
Wagner,  helped  me  with  funds.  Dear  Mr,  Trenholm  was 
too  ill  to  think  of  such  matters  ;  he  died  while  I  was  in 
Europe.  As  these  friends  thought  that  I  was  too  feeble 
to  go  abroad  alone,  they  arranged  that  as  soon  as  my  son 
Theodore  graduated  in  Hartford  from  Trinity  College, 
he  must  go  to  take  care  of  me,  and  they  provided  the 
funds.  I  took  my  wife  and  child  Charles,  and  Josephine, 
my  adopted  daughter,  to  Asheville,  where  I  procured 
board  for  them.  My  mother  preferred  staying  in  Charles- 
ton, and  on  the  5th  of  July,  1876,  I  sailed  in  the  Abyssinia, 


More  Travels  Abroad.  313 

leaving  the  school  in  the  charge  of  Mr.  John  Gadsden, 
and  the  church  in  the  hands  of  the  vestry,  committing 
them  all  to  God.  I  left  behind  a  debt  of  fifteen  thousand 
dollars,  not  knowing  how  it  ever  could  be  paid.  But  my 
creditors  were  all  very  considerate,  and  told  me  that  they 
would  wait,  being  sure  they  would  be  paid  in  time.  Now, 
previous  to  sailing  thirty-three  of  my  boys  were  confirmed, 
and  there  were  six  graduates  of  colleges  in  course  of 
preparation  for  the  ministry.  During  the  winter  of  1876, 
I  had  frequently  visited  the  United  States  arsenal  grounds, 
as  many  of  the  officers  attended  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Communion.  It  is  a  whole  square  of  eight  acres  of 
land,  with  many  buildings  on  it.  I  became  impressed 
with  the  belief  that  in  not  a  very  long  time,  Charleston 
would  be  given  up  as  a  military  post  and  the  arsenal 
would  be  abandoned.  The  needs  of  my  school  had  out- 
grown the  capacity  of  my  builidings  and  grounds,  and  I 
felt  that  this  arsenal  was  the  place  I  needed.  How  to  get 
it  was  of  course  the  question.  I  told  my  wife  what  was 
in  my  mind,  and  daily  at  our  prayers  together  we  asked 
that,  if  it  were  possible,  when  the  Government  had  no 
further  use  for  it,  I  might  obtain  it.  It  seemed  a  far-off 
hope,  but  I  did  a  great  deal  of  thinking  about  it,  in  our 
ten  days'  trip  across  the  Atlantic. 

We  landed  at  Queenstown  on  the  15th  of  July,  and 
went  to  Cork,  Killarney,  and  Dublin,  across  to  Glasgow 
and  Edinburgh,  Stirling,  and  the  lakes  of  Scotland,  and 
down  to  London,  where  we  arrived  on  the  5th  of  August. 
I  had  left  London  on  the  15th  of  October,  1858,  with  my 
wife.  How  much  had  happened  in  those  eighteen  years  ! 
I  had  taken  letters  of  introduction  to  Messrs.  Brown, 
Shipley  &  Co.,  to  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Winchester,  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  to  Dean  Stanley,  and  to  Doctor 
Tremlett,  of  St.  Peter's,  Hampstead.  I  called  at  the  office 
of  Messrs.  Brown,  Shipley  &  Co.,  and  sent  in  my  card, 


314  Led  On  I 


with  Mr.  Howard  Potter's  letter  of  introduction.  Mr. 
William  Collet  met  me  with  the  words,  ' '  Where  have 
you  been  ?  We  have  been  expecting  you  for  three  weeks. 
You  are  doing  a  very  wonderful  work  in  America,  and  no 
doubt  you  would  like  to  get  some  help  in  England." 

"  Pardon  me,"  I  said  ;  ''  how  do  you  know  anything 
of  my  work  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  **  Mr.  Howard  Potter  sent  me  your 
pamphlet.  It  reads  like  a  novel,  and  if  it  did  not  come  so 
endorsed  is  scarcely  credible. ' ' 

I  said  to  him  :  "  It  is  all  true  ;  God's  providence  has 
sent  me  abroad,  in  search  of  health.  I  have  become  much 
shattered  by  my  anxious  life.  I  have  come  only  for  health. 
There  is  too  much  money  in  America,  for  me  to  come  to 
England  for  help.  It  would  be  a  reflection  on  the  gener- 
osity of  my  fellow-citizens." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  your  work  will  touch  the  religious 
heart  of  the  English  people,  and  if  we  give  you  money 
without  your  asking  for  it,  will  you  not  take  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  I  answered,  "  on  those  conditions  I  would 
be  grateful  for  any  help. ' ' 

He  said  :  * '  You  look  like  a  sick  man.  Go  to  Switzer- 
land, and  spend  the  summer  there.  Try  to  forget  your 
responsibilities  at  home  and  get  well.  Come  back  in  the 
autumn,  when  people  return  to  London,  and  we  will  help 
you." 

We  remained  a  few  days  in  London,  where  I  met  my 
friend,  Mrs.  Ogle  Ta3dor,  of  Washington,  D.  C,  with  her 
niece.  Miss  Price,  of  Troy.  She  insisted  on  my  seeing 
that  celebrated  phj^sician,  Sir  Andrew  Clark.  I  told  her 
it  was  impossible  ;  I  did  not  have  the  means  to  visit  such 
a  celebrity.  She  said  she  had  arranged  for  all  that,  and 
had  made  an  appointment  for  me.  I  called,  and  Doctor 
Clark  was  very  kind.  He  gave  me  a  searching  examina- 
tion, and  told  me  my  lungs  were  perfectly  sound,   and 


More  Travels  Abroad.  315 

that  the  hemorrhage  had  been  from  the  heart's  feeble 
action  ;  that  the  anxieties  of  an  overtaxed  Hfe  had  told 
upon  my  nervous  system,  and  that  separation  from  my 
work  was  my  only  safety.  I  must  try  to  forget  America, 
the  church  and  school,  for  had  I  remained  much  longer  at 
my  post  my  case  would  have  been  hopeless.  Rest  and  a 
bracing  air  would  bring  me  all  right  again.  I  felt  better 
at  once  on  hearing  this  opinion.  Mj^  son  Theodore  was 
a  young  man  fresh  from  college,  and  Miss  Price,*  a  bright 
blooming  young  girl  on  her  first  outing.  Mrs.  Taylor  was 
very  glad  for  her  to  have  an  escort,  and  they  had  a  good 
time  together,  at  the  theatres,  drives,  and  general  sight- 
seeing of  London. 

We  went  to  Paris  ;  from  there  to  Switzerland,  visiting 
Geneva,  Chamouni,  Lausanne,  Martigny,  the  Ghorner 
Grat,  the  Rhone  Glacier,  the  Wengern  Alp,  Interlaken, 
Lucerne,  Basle,  Berne,  Cologne,  Antwerp,  Brussels,  and 
Paris,  returning  to  London  on  the  29th  of  September. 
My  son,  with  Colonel  Simons,  who  was  our  companion  in 
travel,  left  me  that  afternoon  and  sailed  for  America  to 
enter  the  Berkeley  Divinity  School,  at  Middletown.  My 
health  was  so  far  restored,  that  I  too  could  have  returned 
home,  but  there  was  that  fifteen  thousand  dollars  debt 
staring  me  in  the  face,  and  the  promise  of  Mr.  Collet  to 
fall  back  on.  I  can  never  forget  the  awful  loneliness  of 
that  moment,  as  the  train  rolled  out  of  Euston  Station, 
and  I  stood  on  the  platform — alone — in  London,  knowing 
only  Mr.  Collet,  of  Brown,  Shipley  &  Co.  The  school 
had  been  disbanded  a  month  earlier  in  consequence  of  my 
absence,  but  the  ist  of  October  was  at  hand,  and  how 
could  I  open  again  with  that  debt  before  me  ?  The  Bank 
of  Charleston  had  enabled  me  to  tide  over  the  summer, 
but  notes  would  soon  fall  due,  and  not  a  dollar  had  come 
in.  I  felt  as  powerless  as  a  child  alone  on  a  raft  in  the 
midst  of  the  tempestuous  sea.    I  was  very  much  in  the  state 

*Miss  Price  married  Mr.  Hammersley,  then  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough, and  is  now  Lady  Berresford. 


3i6  LedO^i! 


of  mind  in  which  I  stood  on  Broadway,  New  York,  in  1866, 
when  Bishop  Davis  sent  me  on  his  mission.  But  I  felt  I 
was  in  London  in  the  providence  of  God,  and  I  cast  my- 
self on  Him,  who  has  said  :  "  Cast  thy  care  upon  God,  for 
He  careth  for  thee."  I  believed  it,  and  trusted  Him.  I 
went  to  Russell  Square  and  engaged  a  room.  The  next 
day  I  took  a  hansom,  and  drove  five  miles  to  Doctor 
Tremlett's  at  Belsize  Park.  It  is  not  easy  to  describe  my 
reception  there.  The  Doctor  was  engaged  and  could  not 
see  me,  but  he  sent  my  letter  to  his  mother  and  sister, 
who  received  me  cordially,  making  me  feel  I  was  no 
longer  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land.  I  found  that  this 
hospitable  house  had  been  the  headquarters  of  many 
Southerners  during  the  civil  war,  all  of  whom  were 
known  to  me.  Bishop  Quintard,  an  old  friend  who  had 
visited  England  in  the  interest  of  the  University  of  the 
South,  had  also  been  Doctor  Tremlett's  guest.  Thus 
bound  together  by  subjects  of  common  interest,  we  soon 
became  well  acquainted,  and  a  friendship  began  that  night 
which  strengthened  with  years  and  is  one  of  the  sweet 
memories  of  life.  Hours  rolled  on  and  still  the  Doctor  did 
not  make  his  appearance.  In  the  meanwhile,  not  having 
learned  the  ways  of  London,  I  had  kept  the  cab,  much  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  driver,  but  dearl}-  to  the  cost  of  my 
not  overfull  purse.  As  I  was  leaving,  the  Doctor  came 
in  apologizing  for  his  delay,  but  he  said,  "  As  a  clergy- 
man, you  can  easily  understand."  His  first  words  were, 
"Where  are  you  staying?"  I  told  him  my  address. 
**  Stay  where  you  are,  and  give  me  the  number  of  your 
packages,  and  I  will  go  and  bring  your  luggage  here." 
This  I  declined  with  many  thanks,  but  he  said  :  '  *  You 
are  a  South  Carolina  clergyman,  in  London  alone,  with  a 
letter  from  the  Bishop  of  Alabama,  and  not  staying  in  my 
house.  I  will  not  tolerate  it.  You  must  come  here  and 
make  your  home  here  while  you  stay  in  London." 


More  Travels  Abroad.  317 


He  was  so  earnest  that  I  yielded,  but  refusing  his  offer 
to  get  my  effects,  I  went  myself,  and  by  ten  o'clock  I 
found  myself  the  guest  of  a  gentleman  I  had  never  seen 
before,  and  at  whose  house  I  remained  four  months  and  a 
half,  only  broken  by  occasional  visits  to  others.  I  cannot 
convey  an  idea  of  the  genial  and  generous  hospitality  of 
those  months  ;  had  I  been  a  brother  I  could  not  have 
been  treated  with  greater  kindness.  Just  before  retiring 
that  night,  I  gave  the  Doctor  one  of  my  pamphlets  which 
contained  the  records  of  my  school  to  the  close  of  1875. 
Next  morning  he  said  to  me  :  "  You  ought  never  to  give 
that  book  to  anyone  late  in  the  evening  if  you  do  not  in- 
tend to  take  away  his  night's  rest.  I  began  to  read  it, 
not  intending  to  spend  much  time  over  it,  but  I  read  on 
and  on  until  I  had  read  every  word,  and  it  was  near 
morning  when  I  finished  it.  I  had  no  idea  who  you  were 
when  I  asked  you  to  stay  with  me.  You  must  get  some 
aid  in  England." 

I  told  him  that  I  had  come  to  England  for  health,  and 
would  have  returned  with  my  son,  but  for  the  observation 
of  Mr.  Collet,  which  was  similar  to  his,  and  it  did  seem 
that  God  was  making  a  way  for  me,  and  therefore  I  had 
remained.  He  said  there  were  many  persons  in  England 
who  would  be  interested  in  such  a  work  ;  the  only  trouble 
would  be  to  reach  them,  but  he  would  lend  me  his  aid, 
which  he  did  most  royally. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


GENEROUS  HELPERS 
Accouiit  of  my  warm  reception  in  E7tgla7id. 

NOW,  reader,  do  you  see  the  hand  of  God  in  all  this  ? 
My  broken  health  alone  put  me  where  I  was.  If 
you  do  not  yet  understand,  read  on,  and  you  soon  will. 
That  day  I  called  on  Mr.  Collet.  By  this  time  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton, the  head  of  the  firm  of  Brown,  Shipley  &  Co.,  had 
returned,  and  I  received  from  himself,  his  wife  and 
daughter,  most  cordial  and  enjoyable  hospitality,  at  Brent 
Lodge,  Finchley,  near  London.  Mrs.  Hamilton  had  lost 
two  dear  boys  in  one  week,  and  when  my  story  was 
known  it  struck  a  responsive  chord.  Mr.  Collet  gave  a 
dinner  party  to  which  he  invited  a  number  of  gentlemen 
whom  he  had  told  that  he  wished  to  introduce  me  and 
desired  them  to  hear  the  story  I  had  to  tell.  After  dinner 
Mr.  Collet  requested  me  to  tell  my  story.  I  did  not  know 
at  the  time  that  those  gentlemen  had  come  to  hear  it,  and 
I  told  it  as  succinctly  as  I  could.  They  asked  many 
questions  and  before  we  left  the  dinner-table,  a  day  had 
been  named  by  each,  asking  me  to  dinner.  Next  day  I 
received  a  note  from  each  containing  a  check  for  from 
five  pounds  up  to  fifty  pounds.  I  dined  with  each  of 
these  gentlemen  and  met  a  different  party  each  time,  with 
the  same  results,     I  had  twenty-five  copies  of  my  pamphlet 

318 


Generous  Helpers.  319 

with  me  and  my  friends  requested  me  to  cable  the  Messrs. 
Appleton,  who  had  published  it,  for  five  hundred  copies  : 
these  arrived  and  were  soon  distributed.  My  friends  pub- 
lished in  England  an  edition  of  one  thousand,  which  they 
distributed,  so  that  help  came  to  me  from  many  quarters. 
By  the  ist  of  December  I  felt  that  I  had  been  long  enough 
in  London,  so  I  prepared  to  return.  I  had  letters  to  Mr. 
Stephen  Watson,  from  Mr.  Wm.  M.  Lawton,  of  Charles- 
ton, and  to  Mr.  A.  H.  Brown,  M.P.,  from  Mr.  Howard 
Potter.  I  sent  these  to  Liverpool,  and  soon  received 
pressing  invitations  from  both  gentlemen  to  visit  them. 
During  my  visit  in  London,  I  had  presented  my  letter  of 
introduction  to  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Winchester,  Harold 
Browne,  well  known  as  the  author  of  the  work  on  the 
Thirty-nine  Articles  of  Religion.  He  entertained  me  at 
his  Episcopal  palace,  Fulham.  He  was  a  charming  man, 
simple  and  unostentatious.  Walking  with  him  in  his 
grounds,  I  two  or  three  times  addressed  him  as  Bishop, 
when  catching  myself,  I  begged  pardon  by  saying  ' '  My 
Lord."  He  put  his  arm  around  my  neck  and  said  :  "  I 
am  only  Bishop  to  you  ;  never  mind  about  the  *  My 
Lord.'  " 

I  also  presented  my  letter  to  Archbishop  Tait,  of  Canter- 
bury, with  whom  I  dined.  He  took  me  all  over  Lambeth 
Palace,  and  pointed  out  many  historic  places,  and  was 
genial  and  courteous.  I  also  met  Dean  Stanley,  but  dis- 
tinguished as  he  was,  he  did  not  interest  me.  He  gave 
me  a  letter  to  his  sister,  Mrs.  Vaughan,  the  wife  of  the 
Master  of  the  Temple,  and  Mrs.  Vaughan  invited  me  to 
several  receptions,  and  to  dinner.  She  was  rather  given 
to  assemble  in  her  parlors  ever>'body  and  anybody  from 
all  parts  of  the  world  who  had  been  in  any  way  distin- 
guished for  having  done  anything  out  of  the  ordinary  life. 

Quite  an  amusing  circumstance  occurred  while  I  was 
in  London.     There  were  some  persons  from  India,  or  from 


320  Led  On  / 


Africa,  I  forget  which,  and.  she  invited  them  to  dinner, 
with  guests  to  meet  them.  Of  course  they  were  of  dark 
complexion.  The  day  came,  and  the  hour  for  dinner, 
and  five  minutes  are  allowed  a  guest  for  dela}^,  after 
which  the  dinner  is  seri^ed.  Ten  minutes  passed  and  the 
dinner  was  announced,  but  the  special  guests  did  not  put 
in  an  appearance.  The  hour  passed  and  still  they  did  not 
come.  At  length  Mrs.  Vaughan  asked  the  butler  if  no 
one  had  called  during  dinner.  "  No  one,"  he  said,  "  ex- 
cept some  nigger  minstrels,  but  they  had  been  sent  away." 
Mrs.  Vaughan's  consternation  can  be  imagined,  for  they 
were  not  nigger  minstrels,  but  her  guests.  I  heard  a  good 
story  in  London  of  a  certain  merchant  :  There  was  a 
clergyman  noted  for  good  works,  who  had  a  ready  entrie 
to  the  prominent  ofl&ces  in  London.  He  called  on  this 
merchant  and  told  his  object.  Of  course  the  merchant 
assented  and  drew  his  check,  put  it  in  an  envelope,  and 
gave  it  to  the  minister.  He  was  raising  two  thousand 
pounds  and  when  he  went  out  of  the  office  he  opened  the 
envelope  and  found  it  was  for  one  thousand  pounds.  Re- 
turning at  once,  he  said  :  ' '  Surel}^  you  have  made  a  mis- 
take, you  meant  to  give  me  one  hundred  pounds  and  you 
gave  me  one  thousand  pounds."  "  No,"  the  merchant 
answered  ;  "  your  time  is  too  valuable  to  be  going  about 
much,  and  I  wished  to  hasten  the  time  when  you  would 
get  what  you  need  for  your  work.  But  I  am  glad  that 
you  have  come  back.  Since  you  left  I  have  opened  my 
mail  and  find  that  things  have  changed  with  me.  Two 
of  my  ships  have  gone  down  in  the  China  Sea,  and  as  we 
are  our  own  insurers,  they  are  a  total  loss.  I  will  have 
to  get  you  to  return  that  check." 

The  clergyman  of  course  gave  it  back  and  very  much 
regretting  his  friend's  loss  as  well  as  his  own,  he  turned 
to  go,  but  the  merchant  stopped  him  saying  :  * '  You  can- 
not  go  from  this  office  empty-handed."      So  he  drew 


Generous  Helpers,  321 

another  check,  put  it  in  an  envelope,  and  gave  it  to  the 
clergyman,  who  again  looked  at  it  when  he  reached  the 
street.  He  thought  he  could  not  read  aright,  as  the  check 
was  written  for  two  thousand  pounds.  So  he  hastened 
back,  saying:  "  My  friend,  you  certainly  now  have  made 
a  mistake.  You  meant  twenty  pounds  and  you  have  made 
it  two  thousand  pounds. "  "  No, ' '  was  the  reply ;  "I 
meant  two  thousand  pounds,  for  if  my  fortune  is  going 
to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  I  wish  to  deposit  some  of  it  first 
where  it  cannot  be  lost. ' ' 

Some  years  after  this  I  was  again  in  London  and  dining 
with  my  dear  friend,  Mr.  Fred.  A.  White.  I  related  the 
story  and  wondered  if  it  was  true.  His  uncle,  the  Rev. 
Bdw.  White,  was  at  table,  and  said  it  was  true  ;  he  had 
known  the  merchant  and  the  clergyman  and  the  circum- 
stance. But  how  many  of  us  Christian  people  are  like 
that  merchant  ? 

I  left  London  and  went  to  Liverpool,  to  be  the  guest  of 
Mr.  Stephen  Watson  and  Mr.  Brown,  by  both  of  whom 
I  was  most  hospitably  entertained  and  generously  helped. 
I  noticed  one  evening  that  Mr.  Watson,  who  was  an  old 
gentleman,  was  a  little  fidgety,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that 
whist  was  a  habit  with  some  old  gentlemen,  so  I  asked, 
*  *  Mr.  Watson,  do  you  play  whist  ?  ' '  He  said,  ' '  Yes, 
he  was  very  fond  of  it. ' ' 

"  Why  do  you  not  play,  then  ?  " 

* '  We  are  only  three,  and  the  dummy  would  not  be 
entertaining  to  you." 

'*  Oh,"  I  said,  "  I  have  not  pla^^ed  a  game  of  whist  for 
twenty  years,  but  I  will  be  as  good  as  dummy ;  if  you  will 
let  me  take  a  hand,  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure." 

The  old  gentleman  brightened  up  :  ''You  will?"  he 
said.     "  Why,  certainly. " 

The  cards  were  ordered,  and  we  played  over  five  games. 

I  soon  found  I  was  doubly  welcome,  and  instead  of  a 


2: 


32  2  Led  On  ! 

couple  of  days,  he  insisted  on  my  staying  a  week.  Friday 
came  and  I  was  to  leave  on  the  Scythia.  The  next  day  a 
budget  of  letters  were  forwarded  from  I^ondon;  among 
them  was  one  which  has  had  a  great  influence  on  the 
shaping  of  many  events  of  my  after  life.  It  was  very 
short  ;  it  was  in  these  words  : 

"  Rkv.  and  dkar  Sir  : 

' '  I  have  read  your  little  book  and  would  like  to  make 
your  acquaintance.  I  am  a  very  busy  man,  and  therefore 
if  you  will  make  an  appointment,  I  will  call  and  see  you, 
but  if  you  will  not  stand  on  ceremony  and  will  call  on  me, 
I  will  be  glad  to  see  you. 

* '  Yours  truly, 

"  Gkorgk  H.  W1I.KINSON." 

I  had  read  Mr.  Wilkinson's  book,  The  Devout  Life,  and 
had  heard  a  great  deal  about  the  author  in  I^ondon,  of 
whom  what  Churchman  in  those  days  who  entered  the 
church  life  in  I^ondon  did  not  hear  ?  Such  a  man  had 
made  himself  felt  even  in  such  a  mighty  world  as  lyondon. 
He  was  then  the  vicar  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  Eaton 
Square,  and  afterwards  Bishop  of  Truro,  where  he  suc- 
ceeded Doctor  Benson.  Doctor  Wilkinson  became  the 
Bishop  of  St.  Andrew's,  Edinburgh,  Scotland.  He  was 
the  very  centre  of  an  immense  church  work.  To  reach 
him  had  never  entered  my  head  ;  to  interest  him  in  my 
work  I  had  never  presumed  to  hope  ;  I  had  not  done  or 
said  a  thing  to  bring  this  about.  How  he  had  got  hold 
of  my  pamphlet,  I  did  not  know,  and  yet,  here  was  a  let- 
ter from  him  asking  me  to  call  and  see  him. 

Here  was  another  door  which  God  had  opened  for  me. 
I  was  very  much  in  the  same  state  of  mind  in  which  I 
think  St.  Peter  was  when   the  angel  opened  the  prison 


Generous  Helpers.  323 

door  and  let  him  out.  I  telegraphed  Doctor  Tremlett 
that  I  would  return  on  Saturday,  for  the  Cunard  Line 
agreed  to  extend  my  ticket  for  six  months. 

I  therefore  forwarded  five  thousand  five  hundred  dollars 
to  Charleston  and  went  back  to  London.  How  different 
my  frame  of  mind  from  what  it  had  been  two  and  a  half 
months  before,  when  I  was  left  by  my  son  and  Colonel 
Simons  alone  !  I  showed  Mr.  Wilkinson's  note  to  Doctor 
Tremlett  and  he  told  me  how  Mr.  Wilkinson  had  received 
my  book — that  he,  Doctor  Tremlett,  had  given  it  to  the 
Rev.  Dr..  Cutts,  the  author  of  Turning  Points  in  Church 
History^  a  most  interesting  book.  Doctor  Cutts  had  given 
my  pamphlet  to  Mr.  Wilkinson,  and  told  Mr.  Tremlett 
that  he  was  sure  if  Mr.  Wilkinson  read  it,  he  would  be 
my  friend  and  I  would  find  his  friendship  valuable  ;  that 
the  door  was  now  open  to  me  wider  than  it  was  before.  I 
went  to  St.  Peter's,  Eaton  Square,  on  Sunday  morning, 
when  Mr.  Wilkinson  preached  from  the  text,  St.  Mark 
ii.,  2:  "And  Jesus  entered  into  Jerusalem  and  into 
the  Temple  :  and  when  He  had  looked  round  about  upon 
all  things,  and  now  the  eventide  had  come,  He  went 
out  unto  Bethany  with  the  twelve."  I  thought  I  never 
heard  such  preaching.  It  was  not  learned  or  abstruse, 
nor  what  in  general  would  be  called  eloquent,  but  it  was 
eloquence  of  the  sublimest  kind.  Every  word  came  with 
power  and  the  congregation  seemed  spellbound  ;  there 
was  a  deathlike  stillness  over  the  throng  of  worship- 
pers, and  when  he  came  to  the  close,  he  said  slowly  and 
calmly:  "  And  now,  my  brethren,  this  same  Jesus  has 
come  into  this  Temple  to-day,  and  is  looking  around  upon 
all  things.  He  is  looking  at  you.  Yes,  He  is  looking 
through  you  (pointing  to  one  portion  of  his  flock),  and 
through  you  (pointing  to  another  quarter  of  the  church), 
yes,  through  me,  through  everyone  of  us,  and  " — leaning 
on  his  pulpit,  gazing  with  a  fixed  earnestness  into  the 


324  Led  On  ! 


faces  of  his  hearers,  he  added,  slowly,  ' '  and  what  does  He 
see  in  us  ?  " 

He  waited  a  moment,  then  rising,  he  turned  and  made 
the  ascription  to  the  Triune  God.  I  have  never  forgotten 
the  moment;  ever}^  countenance  seemed  to  express  the 
thought,  ' '  What  does  He  see  in  me  ?  ' '  Over  twenty  years 
have  passed,  but  my  reverend  brother's  words  have  often 
been  asked  since  then :  ' '  What  does  He  see  in  me  ?  ' '  Mr. 
Wilkinson  was  a  man,  at  that  time,  whom  to  know  was  a 
privilege.  If  ever  a  man  lived  within  the  veil,  it  was 
himself  He  was  nearly  exhausted  with  hard  work  when 
he  was  made  Bishop  of  Truro.  At  Truro  he  built  the 
Choir  of  the  Cathedral,  and  an  exquisite  work  it  is,  but 
the  pressure  was  too  great,  and  he  broke  down  in  health 
utterly. 

In  due  time  after  the  close  of  the  service,  I  sent  my  card 
into  the  vestry-room.  Never  will  I  forget  that  day.  Mr. 
Wilkinson  came  forw^ard  and  extending  both  of  his  hands, 
took  mine  in  them,  sa3dng:  "  My  brother,  I  am  glad  to  see 
you  ;  I  have  read  your  book  ;  I  know  I  am  very  full- 
handed,  and  thought  I  could  not  take  hold  of  another 
thing,  but  you  are  doing  a  work  that  has  upon  it  so  mani- 
festly the  impress  of  God,  that  I  claim  the  privilege  of 
sharing  with  you  some  of  the  blessing.  I  can  help  you 
and  I  will." 

Then  I  was  introduced  to  his  dear  wife  and  children. 
She  has  now  gone  to  her  Saviour,  leaving  a  vacancy  that 
only  memory  fills  ;  a  memory  that  dwells  fondly  on  her 
beautiful,  loving  presence,  that  made  her  home  so  attrac- 
tive and  so  enjoyable,  for  she  was  everything  to  that 
household,  its  sunlight  and  its  joy. 

In  1 88 1,  when  we  had  moved  from  our  old  quarters  in 
the  building  I  had  bought  in  1868,  I  refitted  the  house 
and  called  it,  in  memor>^  of  her.  The  Caroline  Wilkinson 
Home.      It  was  a  refuge  for  ladies  in  reduced  circum- 


Generous  Helpers,  325 

stances,  with  accommodation  for  fourteen,  and  it  has  been 
filled  nearly  ever  since.  Several  widows  and  orphans  of 
clergymen  have  there  found  shelter.  It  is  the  charge  of 
my  parish,  and  we  do  all  we  can  to  add  to  the  comfort  of 
its  inmates.  I  wish  I  had  a  few  thousand  dollars  invested 
to  make  it  a  more  desirable  home. 

Mr.  Wilkinson  had  invited  me  to  preach  for  him  the 
following  Sunday  night,  w^hich  I  did,  but  Mrs.  Wilkinson 
said  that  was  not  the  opportunity  that  I  ought  to  have. 
It  was  the  morning  congregation  I  needed  to  address. 

The  Vicar  looked  over  his  engagements  and  found  I 
could  not  have  his  pulpit  until  the  14th  of  February. 
This  was  the  i8th  of  December.  In  the  meantime  Mr. 
Wilkinson  undertook  that  home  after  home  was  thrown 
open  to  me,  several  pulpits  w^ere  secured,  friends  were 
made  in  new  circles,  and  offerings  began  to  come  in 
again. 

My  good  friend.  Doctor  Tremlett,  whose  guest  I  still 
was,  had  introduced  me  to  many  of  his  flock,  so  that  w^hen 
I  preached  at  his  church,  I  addressed  a  number  of  persons 
whose  acquaintance  I  had  made.  I  preached  morning  and 
night  to  a  large  congregation  and  the  offering  was,  next 
to  St.  Peter's,  Eaton  Square,  the  largest  that  I  received 
in  England.  Indeed,  it  was  much  larger  than  I  ever  re- 
ceived after  preaching  in  any  church  in  America. 

I  had  now  been  absent  from  home  since  the  ist  of  July 
and  affairs  there  needed  my  presence. 

Rev.  Mr.  Perry  had  broken  down  in  health,  had  been 
called  to  Maryland,  had  gone,  and  I  was  needed  in  the 
school  ;  and  my  wife,  whose  health  was  so  frail,  had  begun 
to  feel  the  separation. 

A  frightful  state  of  things  had  prevailed  at  home. 

One  of  those  horrors  of  the  American  system  of  govern- 
ment that  occurs  every  four  years,  the  election  of  a  Presi- 
dent,  which  always  deranges  finance  and  politics,   had 


326  Led  On  ! 


been  held,  the  result  having  brought  the  country  again 
to  the  verge  of  civil  war. 

South  Carolina  had  been  the  scene  of  violent  agitation, 
Charleston  had  been  taken  possession  of  by  a  desperate 
mob  of  negroes,  and  blood  had  been  shed  in  the  streets. 

A  young  man  who  had  been  educated  at  my  school,  and 
was  then  a  member  of  my  choir,  had  been  shot  dead,  while 
quietly  walking  with  his  father  to  his  business,  ignorant 
of  the  disturbance  that  was  going  on. 

But  for  the  firmness  of  General  Hunt,  who  lived  at  the 
arsenal,  and  was  in  command  of  the  United  States  forces 
in  the  city,  and  the  cool  courage  and  tact  of  General 
James  Conner  (the  same  man  to  whom  I  had  offered  the 
command  of  the  Washington  Light  Infantry  Volunteers 
in  1 86 1  under  St.  Michael's  porch),  there  would  have 
been  an  awful  massacre  of  negroes,  and  none  can  tell 
what  might  have  been  the  consequence. 

The  negroes  had  been  incited  by  some  of  the  miserable 
carpet-baggers  and  scaliwags,  as  they  were  termed,  rene- 
gade Southerners,  to  deeds  of  violence,  and  in  this  case 
they  were  the  aggressors.  Every  white  man  flew  to 
arms.  The  Rifle  Clubs  rendezvoused  at  their  armories 
and  five  thousand  armed,  incensed  men  chafed  that  they 
were  held  in  check.  One  word  and  the  trouble  would 
have  been  quelled,  but  thousands  of  blacks  would  have 
died.  James  Conner,  however,  rode  from  armory  to 
armory  and  appealed  for  the  obedience  of  the  men,  and 
for  their  trust  in  him.  Such  was  the  respect  and  confi- 
dence they  had  in  him  that  they  obeyed.  Going  to  General 
Hunt,  he  reported  a  large  body  of  citizen  soldiery  ready 
for  duty,  and  General  Hunt  directed  him  to  bring  out  his 
men,  and  to  range  them  in  the  rear  of  his  United  States 
troops.  So  overwhelming  a  display  of  organized  power 
soon  quelled  the  mob,  and  so  the  bloodshed  was  stopped 
and  a  fearful  massacre  prevented.      All  honor  to  the 


Gene7^ous  Helpers.  327 

memory  of  General  Hunt  and  General  James  Conner,  two 
names  worthy  of  high  place  in  American  history,  and  to 
whom  Charleston  ought  to  be  eternally  grateful. 

Under  all  these  circumstances  I  determined  my  duty 
was  to  start  home,  although  it  was  a  risk  to  make  the  pas- 
sage at  that  midwinter  season,  on  the  17th  of  February. 

On  the  14th  day  of  February,  I  preached  to  an  immense 
congregation  at  St.  Peter's,  Eaton  Square.  Mr.  Wilkin- 
son had  said,  ' '  Do  not  preach  longer  than  twenty  minutes, 
for  I  will  announce  that  you  will  again  preach  at  four 
o'clock,  when  I  only  have  a  hymn  and  a  few  collects  and 
the  sermon,  and  5^ou  can  then  preach  as  long  as  you  desire. ' ' 
While  the  service  was  going  on,  he  asked  if  my  voice 
could  fill  the  church.  "  Try  me,"  I  said,  "  with  the  first 
lesson."  I  read  it,  and  as  I  came  back  he  said,  **  You 
will  do. ' '  I  went  into  the  pulpit,  feeling  that  I  had  be- 
fore me  the  \^ry  cream  of  the  English  aristocracy,  titled 
people  without  number,  but  I  did  not  feel  one  tenth  the 
excitement  I  did  the  day,  in  1865,  I  preached  to  Doctor 
I^ittlejohn's  congregation  in  Brooklyn. 

I  went  on  very  quietly  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when 
my  mind  suddenly  failed  me  ;  I  could  not  have  said  an- 
other word  for  my  life.  So  I  turned  and  made  the  ascrip- 
tion and  came  down.  Mr.  Wilkinson  said :  '  *  Just  right, 
you  have  left  off  where  you  have  made  them  wish  to  hear 
more."  It  was  not  premeditated  ;  memory  had  left  me. 
The  verger  told  Mr.  Wilkinson  that  the  Marquis  of 
Westminster,  as  he  went  out  of  the  church,  said  to  him: 
"That  gentleman  evidently  had  more  to  tell,"  and  he 
came  back  at  four  o'clock  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say. 
The  church  was  again  crowded  at  four  o'clock  and  Mr. 
Wilkinson  told  me  he  saw  persons  there  he  had  never 
before  seen  at  a  second  service. 

I  preached  again  at  night  to  a  wholly  different  class  of 
people,  but  this  time  my  effort  was  to  help  them,  not  they 


328  Led  On! 


to  help  me.  After  the  service  in  the  morning,  a  card  was 
sent  into  the  vestry  and  a  gentleman  desired  an  introduc- 
tion ;  this  was  Mr.  Frederick  A.  White,  then  of  Kenross 
House,  Cromwell  Road. 

I  had  but  one  night  unengaged  before  I  was  to  leave 
London,  which  he  requested  me  to  spend  at  his  house, 
as  I  did.  An  ever- memorable  night  it  was,  for  then 
began  a  friendship  which  I  prize  as  one  of  the  most  pre- 
cious of  my  life,  and  even  up  to  January  i,  1897,  I  re- 
ceived a  cable  from  him  of  love  and  greeting.  He  added 
largely  to  the  offering  made  at  St.  Peter's.  On  the  i6th 
I  received  a  card  from  the  Karl  of  Aberdeen,  then  quite 
a  young  man,  inviting  me  to  luncheon,  and  to  spend  the 
evening  with  him. 

I  was  to  leave  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  had 
bidden  them  good-bye  at  Doctor  Tremlett's  and  at  Mr. 
White's,  and  so  I  stayed  with  the  Earl.  About  ten 
o'clock  I  proposed  to  go,  for  I  had  to  get  my  luggage 
from  where  I  had  left  it,  but  he  asked  for  the  receipt 
from  the  expres.sman,  and  begged  me  to  stay  and  we 
talked  on  until  three  in  the  morning.  Perhaps  he  may 
have  forgotten  that  night  ;  I  never  shall.  His  landau 
was  at  the  door,  and  he  told  me  his  man  would  meet  me 
at  the  station  with  my  trunk,  and  as  he  bade  me  good- 
bye he  handed  me  an  envelope  with  a  check  for  one  hun- 
dred pounds,  the  same  amount  which  he  had  previously 
given  me. 

At  the  house  of  Mr.  Wilkinson,  I  had  met  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Thomas  Kinscote,  he,  the  grandson  of  Lord  Bloomfield, 
and  she,  the  daughter  of  Lord  Gordon,  both  of  whom  are 
still  my  warm  friends. 

I  also  met  Hon.  Edward  Thesinger,  son  of  Lord  Chelms- 
ford, who,  with  his  wife,  were  warm  friends. 

Through  the  Earl  of  Aberdeen,  I  was  introduced  to 
Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England,  and  Lady  Shelborne, 


Gene7^02is  Helpers.  329 

at  whose  hands  in  after  years,  I  received  many  acts 
of  kindness,  as  I  did  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and 
Sir  William  Collet,  from  the  Messrs.  Gilliat  of  Crosby 
Square — yes,  from  a  host  of  friends,  I  received  kindness  for 
which  I  have  not  language  to  express  my  gratitude. 

My  fellow  countryman,  Mr.  J.  S.  Morgan,  extended  to 
me  warm  hospitality,  renewed  his  donation,  and  con- 
tinued until  his  death  to  do  the  same. 

When  I  arrived  at  Liverpool  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Wilkinson 
that  I  was  going  home  with  all  my  fifteen  thousand  dol- 
lars provided  for,  except  seventy-one  pounds,  which  I 
knew  I  could  collect  in  New  York.  When  I  reached 
Queenstown  a  telegram  met  me,  saying  :  *'  Go  on  your 
way  rejoicing,  as  the  Karl  of  Aberdeen  has  put  seventy- 
one  pounds  to  your  credit." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


A   CHURCH   FOR   COI.ORKD   PKOPI.E 


The  School  is  full —  The  colored  question  in  the  Church —  The 
Bishop  piles  another  burden  o?i  my  willing  shoulders — How 
I  went  to  work  to  build  up  St.  Mark's — I  found  the  House 
of  Rest. 

WHEN  I  look  back  at  that  visit  to  England,  whither 
I  went  a  sick  man,  knowing  no  one,  with  a  debt 
of  fifteen  thousand  dollars  on  my  shoulders,  when  I  re- 
member how  I  returned  with  health  reestablished,  with  a 
host  of  friends  and  the  debt  all  paid,  am  I  wrong  in  stating 
that  God  had  His  own  way  to  accomplish  His  ends  ? 
Had  I  not  been  sick  I  would  never  have  gone  to  England, 
and  much  of  my  after  life  had  not  been  lived.  On  the  ist 
of  March,  1877,  I  arrived  in  New  York,  after  a  long  voy- 
age, for  the  Abyssinia  was  a  slow  boat,  but  the  ocean  was 
as  smooth  as  a  mill-pond.  I  have  crossed  the  ocean  five 
times  in  summer,  but  have  never  had  so  calm  a  passage 
as  this  in  midwinter.  After  a  short  visit  to  my  boys  at 
Union  College,  Schenectady,  I  returned  home,  where  a 
warm  welcome  greeted  me. 

The  Home  and  School  were  full  of  boys.  Mr.  Perry 
had  been  ordained  priest  ;  Mr.  P.  H.  Whaley  had  been 
ordained  a  deacon,  in  Connecticut.  Both  of  them  had 
been  my  boys,  the  latter  had  been  a  playmate  of  that 

330 


A  Church  for  Colored  People.  331 

sainted  child  at  whose  grave  this  institution  arose,  and 
he  was  the  first  boy  who  came  into  my  mind,  when  God 
told  me  to  rouse  myself  from  my  grief,  and  go  and  do 
something  for  Christ  and  His  Church.  Thus  has  He 
blessed  me.  My  child  is  in  Paradise,  but  his  young  com- 
panion, through  my  instrumentality,  is  doing  His  Master's 
work  in  the  Church  militant. 

He  is  now  rector  of  the  church  in  Pensacola,  and  has  a 
bright  boy  at  my  school.  The  generous  treatment  I  had 
received  in  England  stimulated  our  people  at  home,  but 
though  friends  at  the  North  aided  me  to  some  extent,  we 
closed  the  school  in  July  with  a  debt  of  three  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars.  In  June,  1877,  ^t  St.  Philip's 
Church,  Rt.  Rev.  W.  B.  W.  Howe  had  ordained  Mr.  C. 
J.  La  Roche  to  the  diaconate.  He  was  one  of  my  boys, 
was  educated  at  my  school,  went  to  the  University  of  the 
South,  and  to  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Nashotah, 
and  is  now  rector  at  Thomasville,  Georgia. 

I  have  mentioned  that  my  wife  and  I  had  daily  prayed, 
that  whenever  the  arsenal  was  given  up  by  the  govern- 
ment we  might  get  it. 

I  had  told  General  Hunt,  who  was  in  command,  my 
wishes,  and  he  promised  if  ever  the  time  came  he  would 
assist  me.  In  the  fall  of  1877,  the  General  Convention 
sat  in  Boston  and  I  was  the  guest  of  Mr.  Robert  M. 
Mason,  as  was  Rt.  Rev.  Horatio  Potter,  of  New  York, 
Bishop  Whipple,  of  Minnesota,  and  others.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  the  delegations  from  Louisiana  and  South 
Carolina  sat  in  adjoining  pews.  Next  to  me  was  General 
Auger,  who  was  in  command  of  the  Southern  Department, 
and  was  a  delegate  from  Louisiana,  who  became  my  close 
friend,  and  when  I  told  him  what  I  had  told  General 
Hunt,  he  promised  his  aid  also.  This  was  in  October, 
1877. 

We  had  reached  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  year. 


332  Led  On  ! 

and  the  reader  can  form  some  faint  idea  of  how  full  these 
years  were  of  joys  and  sorrows,  hopes  and  fears,  all  of 
which  are  known  in  Heaven.  But  no  one  can  tell  what 
such  a  work  as  this  costs,  but  those  who  have  the  like 
work  to  do.  Does  my  reader  say,  ' '  Why  do  you  perse- 
vere in  doing  it,  wh}^  not  give  it  up  ?  Enough  has  been 
done  and  you  are  likely  to  weary  your  friends,  and  we 
know  all  the  work,  the  labor,  the  anxiety."  My  only 
answer  is,  "I  do  not  dare  to  stop.  There  is  no  cessation 
for  me  until  I  lie  down  in  the  grave.  God  sent  me  to  do 
a  work,  and  this  work  He  has  carried  on  in  a  manner  that 
is  miraculous. ' ' 

An-  amount  of  good  has  been  accomplished  which  never 
can  be  estimated  in  this  world,  and  unless  it  becomes  ap- 
parent by  the  entire  failure  of  means  that  the  appointed 
end  has  come,  I  simpl}^  must  go  on.  Woe  would  be  to 
me,  and  more,  if  I  should  stop  because  of  weariness.  I 
can  no  more  cease  my  efforts  than  St.  Paul  could  forego 
to  preach  the  Gospel  ;  like  him,  I  must  "  forget  the  things 
behind,  and  press  for  the  mark."  If  this  is  fanaticism,  it 
is  a  strong  conviction. 

The  last  words  of  my  dying  child  were,  ' '  O  lyord,  save 
Thy  people  and  bless  Thine  heritage,"  and  I  feel  his 
prayer  is  being  answ^ered. 

While  we  were  in  Boston  at  the  Convention,  the  Rev. 
J.  B.  Seabrook,  the  rector  of  St.  Mark's  (the  colored  con- 
gregation), died  and  they  were  left  without  a  head. 

They  had  bought  an  old  building  in  Alexander  Street 
from  St.  Luke's  Church,  a  building  which  Rev.  C.  P. 
Gadsden  had  built  while  St.  Luke's  Church  was  in  pro- 
cess of  erection.  They  had  also  bought  a  lot  at  the 
corner  of  Thomas  and  Warren  Streets,  laid  a  brick  founda- 
tion, and  set  the  frame  of  a  large  church  up,  and  after  the 
death  of  Rev.  Mr.  Seabrook  had  stopped  work  from  Octo- 
ber to  May.     By  very  bad  management  some  eleven  thou- 


A  Church  for  Colored  People.  333 

sand  dollars  had  been  wasted  and  this  exhausted  their 
resources,  and  the  congregation  was  fast  disintegrating. 
One  day  in  May,  1878,  Bishop  Howe  came  to  see  me.  I 
was  in  my  study  and  having  just  received  several  boxes 
of  very  superior  claret  as  a  present  from  my  friend  Mr. 
Thomas  Kinscote,  from  England,  I  offered  a  glass  to  my 
guest.  After  refreshing,  the  Bishop  said  :  *'  Porter,  does 
not  St.  Mark's  Church  trouble  your  conscience  ?  " 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "it  is  a  shame,  Bishop,  that  they  are 
not  helped,  and  I  never  pass  that  frame  building  that  I  do 
not  feel  the  Church  at  large  should  take  hold  of  it  and 
finish  it." 

' '  That  is  what  I  have  come  here  for  you  to  do. ' ' 
"  Bishop,  I  cannot  do  it,  I  am  overwhelmed  with  work 
now. ' ' 


(( 


I  know  it,"  he  said.  "  You  have  more  to  do  than 
six  men  ordinarily  have,  and  I  think  this  will  kill  you, 
yet  it  is  a  good  cause  to  die  in;  but,"  he  added,  "  you 
have  always  taken  an  interest  in  the  colored  work,  they 
are  fond  of  you,  and  you  are  the  only  one  of  the  clergy 
who  knows  anything  about  finance,  and  there  will  have  to 
be  a  great  deal  of  financial  work  done  there,  and  you  can 
doit." 

"  Is  it  W.  B.  W.  Howe  who  says  this  to  me,  or  the  Rt. 
Rev.  \V.  B.  W.  Howe  ?  If  the  former,  I  answer  at  once, 
'No,  I  will  not  touch  it ' ;  if  it  is  my  Bishop,  I  am  under 
orders  and  I  will  obe}'." 

The  Bishop  laughed,  and  said,  "  Well,  it  is  the  Bishop." 

"  Very  well,"  I  replied,  "  you  do  not  expect  me  to  give 
up  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion  or  the  School,  do 
you?" 

"  Oh,  no,  but  you  must  take  this  too." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said  ;  "  go  and  have  me  elected  rector, 
and  promise  to  give  me,  for  one  year,  each  of  the  deacons 
as  they  are  ordained,  and  I  will  undertake  it. ' ' 


334  ^^^  ^^^ ' 


As  he  went  out  of  my  office,  he  added  :  *  *  You  have 
rolled  away  a  weight  that  was  on  my  heart." 

He  went  and  assembled  the  vestry  of  St.  Mark's  and 
told  them  their  prospects.  They  were  delighted,  and  at 
once  unanimously  elected  me  rector.  On  Sunday  night 
the  7th  of  June,  1878,  I  held  service  for  them  and  after 
the  sermon  said  : 

'  *  Now,  friends,  your  vestry  have  elected  me  your  rector. 
I  can  only  give  you  a  service  one  Sunday  morning  a 
month,  when  I  will  have  a  Celebration,  and  also  service 
every  Sunday  night  and  Wednesday  night. 

''  I  will  visit  your  sick,  bury  your  dead,  and  marry 
those  who  desire  me  to  do  so.  The  Bishop  promises  me 
Mr.  La  Roche,  who  will  be  ordained  in  a  few  days  deacon, 
and  he  will  minister  at  other  times,  but  if  there  is  a  man 
among  you  who  does  not  wish  me  to  accept,  now  is  the 
time  to  say  it  or  forever  after  hold  yowr  peace. 

"  All  who  wish  me  to  accept,  rise." 

Ninety-one  men  rose.  "  Now,"  I  said,  "  those  who  do 
not  wish  me  to  accept,  rise."  None  rose.  "  While,"  I 
said,  "  women  do  not  vote  in  this  church,  yet  all  of  you 
can  express  your  wishes  ;  all  the  women  who  wish  me  to 
accept,  rise."  Over  two  hundred  rose,  being  all  the  wo- 
men present.  "It  is  unanimous,"  I  said,  "  and  in  the 
name  of  the  Trinity  I  accept  the  rectorship  and  next 
Wednesday  night  I  will  be  here,  and  after  service  I  shall 
talk  about  money  and  nothing  else.  Those  who  do  not 
wish  to  hear  about  that  subject  can  stay  away." 

On  Monday  night  I  called  a  meeting  of  the  younger 
members  of  the  vestry,  C.  C.  Leslie,  Richard  Birnie,  Wm. 
Ingliss,  and  John  Stoken,  at  Ingliss's  house,  and  said  : 
"  You  know  your  people  better  than  I  do.  How  can  I 
best  reach  them  next  Wednesday  night?"  Birnie  sug- 
gested that  I  draw  up  two  copies  each  of  subscriptions  for 
twenty-five,  twenty,  fifteen,  ten,  and  five  dollars,  payable 


A  Church  for  Colored  People.  335 

quarterly,  and  then  for  miscellaneous  amounts,  and  send 
one  after  the  other  down  the  aisle. 

I  adopted  his  plan,  and  on  Wednesday  night  the  build- 
ing was  packed  with  the  congregation. 

I  then  told  them  I  did  not  propose  to  stay  long  in 
this  tumble-down  shanty,  nor  let  their  church  go  un- 
finished ;  that  we  must  be  in  it  in  six  months  ;  I  would 
not  go  for  help  outside  until  we  had  raised  our  last 
dollar.  That  I  would  send  these  lists  down  among 
them,  and  none  of  them  must  sign  one  of  them  for  an 
amount  they  would  not  pay.  That  I  would  place  these 
lists  on  the  altar  as  a  gift  to  God,  and  they  must  not  rob 
Him. 

I  then  started  the  lists.  I  had  no  singing,  no  excite- 
ment, but  calmly  read  the  offertory,  expounding  each 
verse  as  I  went  along.  As  the  lists  were  brought  up,  I 
reverently  placed  them  on  the  altar,  and  started  sending 
down  another  set.  It  took  some  time  to  do  it ;  but  when 
they  were  all  in,  I  gave  them  to  the  vestry,  and  told  them 
to  add  up  the  amount  that  I  might  announce  it  to  them. 
The  pledges  footed  up  three  thousand  five  hundred  dol- 
lars, and  I  collected  every  dollar  of  it  except  one  hundred 
and  seventy-nine  dollars,  which  failed  from  deaths;  and 
this  from  a  colored  congregation  in  1878.  The  vestry 
met,  and  voted  me  a  salar}^  of  nine  hundred  dollars. 

When  Mr.  La  Roche  was  ordained  and  came  to  me,  I 
gave  him  every  cent  of  the  nine  hundred  dollars  ;  indeed, 
I  served  those  people  for  ten  years,  and  never  received,  per- 
sonally, one  dollar  for  my  work.  They  presented  me  with 
a  horse  and  buggy  to  enable  me  to  do  my  extra  parish 
w^ork  ;  with  that  exception,  they  had  my  labors  without 
money  and  without  price,  as  the  deacons  in  charge  received 
all  the  salary.  I  had  in  succession,  C.  J.  La  Roche;  Theo. 
A.  Porter,  my  son ;  Thaddeus  Saltus,  a  colored  man,  first 
as  deacon,  then  as  priest  ;  and  after  his  death.  Rev.  Mr. 


336  Led  On  ! 

Bishop;  and  then  Rev.  J.  H.  M.  Pollard,  into  whose  hands 
I  resigned  the  work  after  ten  years  in  1888,  leaving  him 
with  a  communicant  list  of  three  hundred  and  fifty,  a 
church  built  and  paid  for,  all  to  some  eleven  hundred  dol- 
lars contracted  for  repairs. 

But  I  must  go  back  to  the  first  efforts.  Next  day  after 
this  free  offering,  on  Wednesday  night,  June  loth,  I  went 
to  Mr.  Wm.  C.  Courtney,  President  of  the  Bank  of 
Charleston.  I  told  him  I  had  set  the  contractor  at  work 
on  the  church  that  morning,  and  would  need  money  from 
time  to  time,  at  ninety  days,  to  be  paid  out  of  these  pledges. 
He  asked  if  I  would  give  my  note.  ' '  Yes,  with  the  names 
already  mentioned  as  endorsers."  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  I 
shall  look  to  you  for  the  money."  "  Yes,"  I  answered, 
' '  I  will  be  responsible,  but  I  will  never  pay  one  dollar  of 
it  beyond  my  subscription  ' '  ;  and  I  never  did.  They  paid 
it  all  themselves,  and  we  never  renewed  without  taking 
off  a  good  slice  of  the  debt.  On  the  7th  of  November,  the 
church  was  consecrated,  as  the  debt  was  all  personal, 
being  mine  and  three  members  of  the  congregation.  We 
had  not  long  occupied  it  before  I  induced  them  to  buy  an 
organ  which  cost  sixteen  hundred  dollars,  and  we  had  just 
paid  the  last  dollar  we  owed  when  the  cyclone  of  1885  un- 
roofed the  church  and  ruined  the  organ. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  these  hard-working  people, 
and  they  seemed  ready  to  give  up,  but  I  called  the  vestry 
together,  and  invited  the  congregation  through  them  to 
worship  at  St.  Timothy's  Chapel,  which  held  fully  five 
hundred  persons.  This  chapel  I  had  built  on  my  grounds, 
at  the  old  arsenal.  There  they  worshipped  for  six  months. 
About  one  thousand  dollars  came  from  the  North  to  help 
them,  and  about  one  thousand  dollars  at  home,  but  it  cost 
them  four  thousand  five  hundred  to  repair  and  enlarge  the 
chancel  and  restore  the  organ.  Then  the  earthquake  of 
1886  again  damaged  them  about  fifteen  hundred  dollars, 


A  Church  for  Colored  People.  -i^^^j 

and  it  was  from  this  cause  I  left  them  with  that  eleven 
hundred  dollars  debt.  It  did  not  kill  me  as  Bishop  Howe 
thought  it  would.  I  gave  up  my  summer's  holidays  in 
1878  to  them,  and  worked  very  hard,  but  I  look  back  with 
much  gratitude  to  the  work  I  did  for  Christ  and  His 
Church  in  that  congregation.  When  I  left  them  they 
ranked  second  in  numbers  in  the  diocese,  and  fifth  in  the 
list  of  contributions  for  Church  work. 

St.  Mark's  Church  has  become  historical,  for  it  was 
about  it  that  that  dreadful  contest  waged  in  this  dio- 
cese; it  almost  killed  me,  and  it  did  kill  the  Bishop,  for  he 
died  of  a  broken  heart  ;  broken  by  his  love  for  the  Church 
which  he  ruled  and  loved  so  well. 

When  I  came  back  from  England,  my  blessed  friend, 
Mr.  George  A.  Trenholm,  was  dead — one  of  the  noblest, 
greatest  men  this  State  has  ever  produced.  I  missed  him 
then  ;  I  have  missed  him  in  all  these  long  years  ;  I  need 
him  now,  for  our  parish  needs  his  wisdom  and  his  aid. 

But  a  new  work  was  now  opened  up  to  me,  for  Miss 
Celia  Campbell  and  Miss  Jane  Wagner  came  to  me  in  the 
church,  after  a  week-day  service,  in  the  seventies,  and 
told  me  they  had  found  in  their  visits  to  the  City  Hospi- 
tal an  unfortunate  woman  who  wished  to  lead  a  better  life. 
She  had  been  ill,  and  was  now  convalescent  and  had  to  leave 
the  hospital,  and  they  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  her. 

I  soon  saw  what  was  in  their  minds.     "  Go,"  I  said, 

and  hire  a  house  and  begin  your  work.  I  will  be  respon- 
sible for  three  months'  rent."  I  did  not  have  to  pay  the 
rent,  for  these  blessed  women  themselves  established  The 
House  of  Rest,  which  has  done  a  great  work  for  fifteen 
years. 

The  school  began  again  on  the  ist  of  October,  1878,  and 
I  find  nothing  of  note,  save  the  consecration  of  St.  Mark's 
Church,  and  the  steady  routine  life  of  the  two  parishes, 
and  the  school. 


22 


338  Led  On  / 

My  notes  tell  of  the  same  trials,  perplexities,  and  needs 
as  we  drifted  along  I  scarcely  know  how  ;  but  God  was 
preparing  a  new  movement  in  my  behalf. 

I  had  begun  the  year  with  a  debt  of  thirty-five  hundred 
dollars.  I  saw  in  the  month  of  December  that  my  debt 
at  the  end  of  the  year  would  be  nearly  double  that  amount. 
I  wrote  several  letters  to  persons  whom  I  knew  to  be  very 
rich  and  whom  I  regarded  as  my  friends.  From  one  I 
received  a  very  curt  reply ;  another,  an  immensely  wealthy 
person,  said  he  had  nothing  to  spare.  I  concluded  if  such 
men  could  give  me  such  answers,  it  was  useless  to  apply 
to  any  others.  About  the  2 2d  of  December  I  wrote  to  my 
friend  Canon  Wilkinson,  and  told  him  of  my  distress, 
adding,  in  the  then  depressed  condition  of  things  in  Eng- 
land, I  could  not  think  of  turning  to  my  friends  there  for 
help.  A  committee  of  gentlemen,  after  my  first  visit  to 
England,  had  agreed  to  keep  my  memory  green  in  the 
hearts  of  my  English  friends,  and  they  had  sent  me  each 
year,  several  hundreds  of  pounds  *  Early  in  February, 
1879,  I  received  a  letter  from  Fred.  A.  White,  Secretary, 
stating  that  the  committee  had  held  a  meeting  and  di- 
rected him  to  write  me  that  the}^  could  not  counsel  me 
to  come  across  the  water,  but  that  I  had  many  friends  in 
England,  and  although  the  times  were  very  hard,  still,  if 
I  determined  to  come  they  would  ensure  me  a  hearty 
welcome,  and  would  render  me  all  the  assistance  they 
could.  The  decision  they  must  leave  with  the  Bishop  of 
my  diocese  and  myself,  but  if  I  came  not  to  do  so  until 
after  Easter.  I  immediately  went  to  the  Bishop  and  laid 
the  whole  matter  before  him.  He  asked  me  if  I  went, 
what  would  I  do  with  my  two  parishes,  the  Holy  Com- 
munion and  St.  Mark's?  I  told  him  the  Rev.  Mr.  I^a 
Roche  would  fill  one,  and  for  the  other,  I  proposed  to  get 
three  or  four  of  the  brethren  who  were  in  small  country 
parishes  to  take  my  place.     *'  On  what  grounds?  "  the 

*  For  list  of  E^nghsh  Committee,  see  Appendix  H. 


A  Church  for  Colored  People.  339 

Bishop  asked.  I  said  :  ' '  On  the  ground  that  this  Acad- 
emy was  rearing  laj^men  for  every  parish  in  the  diocese. 
That  from  it,  we  had  to  look  for  most  of  the  clergy  of  the 
future,  and  if  it  failed  now,  it  would  carry  desolation  into 
hundreds  of  households. ' ' 

The  Bishop  remained  thoughtful  for  some  time,  and 
then  said  :  "  I  regard  your  work  of  so  much  value  to  the 
Church  that  it  must  not  fail  if  human  aid  can  prevent  it. 
I  will  recall  my  appointments  to  the  diocese  for  the  Sun- 
days, and  I  will  myself  take  charge  of  your  parish  until 
you  return." 

I  told  the  Bishop  this  endorsement  of  mj^  work  would 
be  worth  a  trip  to  England  if  I  did  not  bring  back  one 
dollar.  I  called  the  vestry  and  board  of  trustees  together, 
and  submitted  to  them  the  question — to  go,  or  not  ?  They 
deplored  their  inability  to  deny  that  it  was  my  duty  to 
go.  After  the  cheering  offer  of  the  Bishop,  and  the 
unanimous  advice  of  the  vestry  and  trustees,  there  seemed 
nothing  else  to  do.  During  all  this  while  my  wife  had 
been  desperately  sick,  and  had  been  confined  to  her  bed 
for  weeks,  and  was  so  feeble  she  could  not  hold  up  her 
head.  I  shrank  from  leaving  home  under  such  circum- 
stances. My  wife  very  ill,  my  eldest  son  to  be  soon 
ordained  to  the  diaconate,  my  other  son  in  my  confirma- 
tion class — from  all  of  which  I  would  be  absent.  How 
could  I  go  ?  I  laid  all  this  before  my  wife,  who,  hearing 
me  through,  said  :  "  I  have  determined  your  duty  long 
since  ;  you  must  go."  "  I  'm  leaving  you,"  I  said,  "  in 
this  condition."  Her  answer  was  worthy  of  the  best  age 
of  the  Church — *  *  '  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother,  wife 
or  children,  houses  or  lands,  more  than  Me,  is  not  worthy 
of  Me.'  If  your  Master  has  given  you  a  work  to  do,  do  it, 
whatever  sacrifice  it  costs. '  * 

This  determined  me,  and  all  my  arrangements  began 
to  be  made  to  leave,  on  the  2d  of  April,  in  the  Scythia. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

I   APPLY   FOR   THE   ARSENAL 

Vague  thoughts  of  obtaifiing  the  arsenal  buildings  for  the 
Institute — I  am  well  supported  by  frie^ids  in  my  application 
— General  Sherman  e^idorses  it — Help  in  Englajid  for 
my  school. 


DURING  the  month  of  February,  my  friend  General 
Auger  had  visited  Charleston,  and  sent  me  a  mes- 
sage by  General  Hunt  that  he  was  in  the  city  and  invited 
me  to  see  him.  I  accordingly  called,  and  in  the  presence 
of  General  Auger,  General  Hunt  said,  *'  I  wish  you  to 
tell  General  Auger  what  you  have  told  me. ' '  I  did  so, 
saying  to  the  General  I  did  not  know  what  it  meant,  but 
I  had  done  as  General  Hunt  requested,  though  he  had 
heard  the  same  from  me  in  Boston.  The  General  smiled 
and  replied,  ' '  I  will  remember  this,  and  if  in  anything  I 
can  be  of  service  to  you,  you  may  depend  on  my  assistance. 
It  is  the  best  purpose  the  property  can  be  put  to. ' ' 

I  had  thought  no  more  of  this  matter  and  turned  my 
attention  to  my  duties,  and  to  my  preparations  for  leaving 
America  in  April.  A  few  days  before  I  was  to  leave  for 
England,  I  received  a  letter  from  General  Auger,  from 
Newport  Barracks,  Kentucky,  telling  me  that  the  authori- 
ties at  Washington  had  determined  to  withdraw  the  troops 

340 


I  Apply  for  the  Arsenal.  341 

from  Charleston,  and  if  I  would  make  proper  application 
lie  thought  T  could  get  the  arsenal,  and  that  he  would 
assist  me.  His  letter  nearly  took  my  breath  away.  Were 
the  prayers  of  my  wife  and  self  so  near  fulfilment  ?  We 
never  mentioned  it  to  a  soul,  but  I  wrote  to  General 
Auger  of  my  contemplated  trip  to  England,  and  asked 
what  steps  I  should  take.  He  telegraphed  me  to  get  a 
strong  letter  of- endorsement  from  General  Hunt,  and  that 
I  would  find  letters  from  him  in  New  York. 

In  the  goodness  of  God  my  wife's  health  improved,  so 
when  I  left  Charleston  on  the  27th  of  March,  1879  for 
New  York,  I  took  her  with  me,  to  go  and  be  with  my 
adopted  daughter,  Mrs.  De  Witt,  whose  husband,  a  most 
distinguished  surgeon  in  the  United  States  army,  was 
stationed  in  Montana.  I  thought  the  change  would  be 
good  for  her,  and  with  Doctor  De  Witt's  care,  would  re- 
vive her,  which  it  did.  I  took  with  me  the  following 
paper  : 

"  To  the  Hon.  G.   W.  McGrary,  Secretary  of  War  : 

* '  Sir  :  I  have  been  informed  that  it  is  the  purpose  of  the 
Government  to  withdraw  the  troops  from  the  arsenal 
property  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  and  leave  it  prac- 
tically vacant,  for  the  present,  at  least.  If  such  be  the 
case,  I  have  the  honor  to  make  application  for  the  lease 
of  the  property  upon  such  terms  as  will  secure  its  preser- 
vation and  protect  the  interests  of  the  Government.  My 
purpose  is  to  occupy  the  buildings  and  grounds  with  my 
school,  The  Holy  Communion  Church  Institute,  an  in- 
stitution incorporatd  under  the  laws  of  South  Carolina 
for  educational  purposes,  and  which  has  accomplished  im- 
portant results  in  the  last  twelve  years,  in  the  education 
of  a  large  number  of  boys  and  young  men,  almost  entirely 
by  voluntary  contribution  from  the  North  and  England 
and  other  sections  of  this  country.     I  am  anxious  to  ex- 


342  Led  On  ! 

tend  and  enlarge  the  scope  of  this  work,  and  am  encour- 
aged to  hope  that  the  Government  may  help  me  by  con- 
tracting with  me  for  a  lease  of  the  vacant  property,  which 
is  admirably  adapted  to  the  purposes  of  a  school  such  as 
mine.  It  is  quite  competent  for  the  institution  to  contract 
for  a  lease,  and  I  am  prepared  to  guarantee  the  preserva- 
tion and  return  of  the  property  in  such  order  as  I  find  it, 
upon  proper  notice.  I  invite  your  attention  to  the  letters 
of  General  Auger  and  General  Hunt,  with  General  Sher- 
man's endorsement,  and  I  am  prepared  to  furnish  any  in- 
formation which  may  be  desired  as  to  the  character  and 
purposes  and  history  of  this  institution,  which  I  think 
commends  itself  to  the  sympathy  and  kind  ofl&ces  of  every 
lover  of  education  and  progress.  It  is  perhaps  proper  that 
I  should  say  that  I  derive  no  pecuniary  benefit  from  this 
school,  and  have  no  compensation  from  it,  more  than  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  am  and  have  been  instru- 
mental, through  it,  in  extending  the  blessings  of  a  liberal 
education  to  numbers  of  boj^s  who  would  not  otherwise 
have  enjoyed  them.  In  other  words,  I  desire  to  impress 
upon  you  that  I  am  not  making  application  for  speculative 
purposes. 

"  Very  respectfully,  etc., 

"  A.  TooMER  Porter, 
' '  Chairman  Board  of  Trustees. ' ' 

The  above,  in  part,  was  the  substance  of  the  paper  I 
prepared,  which  General  Hunt  refers  to  in  the  following 
letter : 


"Headquarters  Fifth  Artii,i,ery, 

"  Chari^eston,  S.  C,  March  21,  1879. 


n 


I  have  examined  Rev.  Dr.  A.  Toomer  Porter's  paper 
with  respect  to  the  acquisition  of  the  arsenal  grounds, 


I  Apply  for  the  Arsenal.  343 

Charleston,  for  the  school  of  which  he  has  charge,  and 
believe  that  all  the  statements  found  in  it  are  correct.  In 
all  excavations  made  in  these  grounds  human  remains  are 
found,  a  boggy  creek  originally  ran  through  the  Square, 
diagonally,  and  it  is  difficult  to  get  good  foundations  for 
new  buildings.  The  locality  is  entirely  outside  the  busi- 
ness part  of  the  town,  and  the  existing  quarters,  barracks, 
storehouses,  and  hospital  are  unfitted  for  any  private  use. 
To  tear  them  down  and  sell  the  old  materials  would  prob- 
ably be  the  most  profitable  money  use  they  could  be  put 
to.  If  no  longer  needed  for  military  purposes,  the  place, 
nearly  as  it  stands,  would  be  admirably  adapted  for  the 
uses  of  such  a  school  as  Dr.  Porter's.  I  know  the  school, 
it  is  all  it  is  claimed  to  be,  has  done  incalculable  good, 
and  the  transfer  of  the  grounds  to  it  would  greatly  aug- 
ment its  value  to  the  people  of  this  State.  No  other 
grant  of  lands  (of  the  same  money  value)  for  purposes  of 
education,  would,  in  my  opinion,  be  so  useful,  at  this  time, 
as  the  transfer  of  this  reservation  to  the  school  for  its  per- 
manent establishment. 

Henry  J.  Hunt,  Bvt.  Major-Genl.,  U.  S.  A., 
Comdg.  Post  of  Charleston." 


In  New  York  I  met  a  long  and  warm  letter  from  Gen- 
eral Auger  telling  me  how  to  proceed.  I  had  but  six  days 
now  to  work  in,  as  I  was  to  leave  on  the  2d  of  April.  I 
left  Mrs.  Porter  in  New  York  and  hastened  to  Washing- 
ton. I  called  immediately  on  General  Sherman.  He  and 
I  had  frequently  met  in  the  intervening  years,  and  he 
always  spoke  of  that  trip  I  made  with  McQueen,  and  what 
he  thought  of  the  act  on  my  part ;  and  again  and  again  he 
had  asked  me  what  the  Government  had  done  for  me  in 
return  for  my  saving  that  young  man.  I  had  always 
said  the  Government  could  do  nothing.  It  certainly  could 
not  pay  me  money,  for  I  had  taken  my  life  in  my  hand  to 


344  ^^^  O^^  • 

manifest  my  gratitude  to  McQueen,  and  that  the  running 
of  such  a  risk  had  no  money  value. 

' '  Just  Hke  you  South  Carolina  fools, ' '  he  had  said  ; 
' '  very  pretty,  but  not  business. ' ' 

This  time  when  I  called  I  said,  "  General,  now  the 
Government  can  do  something,  not  for  me,  but  for  the 
State  ;  "  and  I  unfolded  my  wishes. 

The  General  had  gone  on  writing  w^hile  I  was  talking, 
and  when  I  had  finished,  he  put  down  his  pen,  and  turn- 
ing his  chair  round,  he  said:  "  Do  you  never  mean  to  stop 
putting  this  Government  under  obligations  to  you  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked. 

' '  Why,  you  saved  the  life  of  a  valuable  officer  at  the 
risk  of  3^our  own  in  the  war,  and  now  the  Government 
has  a  piece  of  abandoned  property  that  it  does  not  know 
what  to  do  with,  and  here  j^ou  are  with  this  noble  use  to 
put  it  to.  You  do  not  think  a  man  like  3^ou  can  hide 
himself?  I  have  watched  your  career.  I  know  about 
your  colored  school,  and  how  you  have  struggled  to  edu- 
cate the  children  of  the  impoverished  white  people  there 
in  Charleston.  You  ought  to  have  a  vote  of  thanks  for 
taking  it.  I  could  give  it  to  you  with  a  stroke  of  my  pen, 
but  just  as  you  get  fixed,  some  politician  might  come  and 
take  it  from  you.  You  go  to  General  Hampton  and  Gen- 
eral Butler,  and  get  them  to  draw  a  bill,  and  let  them 
go  to  the  Democrats,  and  me  to  the  Republicans,  and  we 
will  see  if  we  cannot  get  it  done." 

General  Sherman  then  took  the  paper  I  had  drawn  in 
Charleston,  with  General  Hunt's  letter,  and  drafted  him- 
self the  paper  given  above.  He  then  endorsed  it  strongly, 
and  himself  went  with  it  to  the  Secretary  of  War,  who 
also  favorably  endorsed  it  and  sent  it  to  the  Adjutant- 
General  to  find  out  who  had  the  power  in  the  matter. 
The  Adjutant-General  said  it  would  be  necessary  to  get 
an  act  of  Congress  authorizing  the  lease.     I  then  saw 


I  Apply  for  the  Arsenal.  345 

General  M.  C.  Butler,  who  became  very  much  interested, 
and  drafted  a  joint  resolution,  and  had  it  introduced  into 
the  Senate.  There  it  was  referred  to  the  Military  Com- 
mittee, of  which  General  Wade  Hampton  was  a  member, 
and  the  next  day  they  brought  in  a  report  recommending 
the  adoption  of  the  resolution  and  it  went  on  the  calendar. 
The  same  process  was  observed  in  the  House  of  Represent- 
atives, and  General  Butler  told  me  that  was  as  far  as  it 
likely  would  go  this  session,  and  I  need  not  stay  longer. 
So  I  returned  to  New  York,  having  no  doubt  about 
ultimate  success.  I  felt  I  had  been  led  on  by  an  unseen 
hand  to  undertake  the  work,  and  God's  blessing  would 
go  with  it,  and  committing  it  to  our  Heavenly  Father, 
asked  that  His  will,  not  mine,  be  done.  I  made  arrange- 
ments for  my  wife  to  go  out  to  my  adopted  daughter,  and 
on  the  2d  of  April,  1879,  sailed  in  the  Scythia  for  my 
third  trip  across  the  ocean.  On  this  trip  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  T.  Swift,  both 
of  whom  were  warm  and  generous  friends  until  they 
died. 

I  arrived  in  London  on  Easter  Eve,  April  12,  1879,  and 
stayed  at  Kenrose  House,  Cromwell  Road,  London,  the 
guest  of  the  truest  friend  I  have  ever  had  on  earth,  Mr. 
Frederick  A.  White.  I  met  with  a  warm  reception  from 
him,  his  wife,  and  his  sister,  and  found  a  letter  of  kindly 
welcome  from  Canon  Wilkinson,  saying  I  had  done  right 
to  come.  On  the  table  was  a  note  from  my  host  contain- 
ing twenty  pounds  as  an  Easter  offering  for  my  own  use. 
This  was  only  a  sample  of  the  unbounded  kindness  I  re- 
ceived at  their  hands.  For  three  months  I  was  the  guest 
of  these  dear  friends,  who  left  nothing  undone  to  make 
my  visit  agreeable  to  myself  and  profitable  to  my  work. 
Through  Mr.  Wilkinson,  Doctor  Tremlett,  Mr.  White, 
and  Mr.  Thomas  Kinscote,  all  the  plans  were  laid  out  for 
me,  and  I  preached  in  several  churches,  where  offerings 


34^  Led  On  / 


were  made  to  my  cause.      Several  dinner  parties  were 
given  to  me,  and  thus  more  friends  were  made  for  my 
work.     The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  Doctor  Tait,  the 
Archbishop  of  Dubhn,  the  celebrated  Doctor  Trench,  the^ 
Primate  of  Scotland,  Lord  Cairns,  then  Lord  High  Chan- 
cellor of  England,  Lord  and  Lady  Shelborne,  and  the  Earl 
and  Countess  of  Aberdeen  all  extended  to  me  social  hos- 
pitality and  some  of  them  generous  contributions.     Mr. 
John  Welsh,  the  American  Minister  at  the  Court  of  St. 
James,  Mr.  Junius  S.  Morgan,  Mr.  Sturgis,  of  the  firm  of 
Baring  Brothers,  gave  me  liberal  assistance.     It  would  be 
almost  impossible  to  tell  of  all  the  kindness  manifested  to 
me  in  word  and  act.     I  look  back  to  this  visit  with  great 
pleasure,  and  am  filled  with  gratitude  not  only  to  those 
liberal  and  hospitable  friends,  but  to  the  Giver  of  every 
good  and  perfect  gift,  who  moved  the  hearts  of  His  people 
to  aid  me  so  materially  in  sustaining  an  institution,  the 
importance  of  which  I  know  I  do  not  overestimate.     Oh, 
that  I  could  impress  my  own  countrymen.   North  and 
South,  with  an  idea  of  the  good  such  an  institution  is 
capable  of  doing  !     Single-handed  I  have  maintained  the 
struggle.     I  have  begged  and  prayed  daily  for  an  endow- 
ment which  will  secure  its  continuance  and  give  me  some 
little  rest,  but  it  has  not  been  the  will  of  God  to  grant 
either  yet,  and  here  I  am,  after  thirty  j^ears,  battling  hard 
as  ever,  and  not  seeing  how  I  can  maintain  it  another 
month.     The  proposed  transfer  of  the  arsenal  property  by 
the  United  States  Government  gave  increased  interest  in 
my  work.     Soon  after  I  arrived  in  England,  I  received 
papers  from  home  containing  the  introduction  of  the  joint 
resolution  by  Senator  Butler,  and  the  favorable  report  of 
the  Military  Committee  of  the  Senate.     This  gave  pub- 
licity to  my  work,  for  I  had  hitherto  studiously  kept  the 
whole  matter  a  profound  secret,  and  this  publication  was 
the  first  intimation,  at  home,  of  my  movement,  and  for 


I  Apply  for  the  Arsenal,  347 

several  days  the  papers  published  articles  laudatory  and 
congratulatory. 

Of  course  all  undertakings  of  a  public  character  meet 
with  a  certain  amount  of  opposition.  In  due  time  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  General  Butler  stating  that  a  certain 
person  in  Charleston  had  employed  a  lawyer  to  defeat  my 
object.  The  person  intended,  if  he  could,  to  purchase  the 
arsenal,  pull  down  the  buildings  and  put  up  in  the  middle 
of  the  square  a  private  residence.  I  was  not  alarmed,  for 
I  knew  the  Government  would  not  sell  ;  but  I  foresaw 
some  trouble.  I  knew,  however,  that  if  it  was  true  that  I 
had  been  led  so  far  by  God's  hand,  and  if  it  was  for  His 
glory  and  the  good  of  the  Church,  I  would  not  be  defeated 
in  my  efforts,  and  I  was  quite  willing  to  leave  it  all  to 
Him. 

The  Rev.  John  Morgan,  of  the  American  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  in  Paris,  invited  me  to  come  to  Paris 
and  preach  for  him  on  the  15th  of  June.  From  a  few 
Americans  in  Paris  I  collected  nearly  one  thousand  dol- 
lars. But  there  was  an  incident  of  my  visit  to  Paris  that 
is  worth  repeating. 

I  met  there  Miss  Mason  of  Virginia,  who  told  me  that 
she  was  anxious  for  me  to  go  and  see  a  Virginia  family 
who  were  stranded  in  Paris.  I  was  very  much  pushed  for 
time,  but  I  hunted  them  up  in  an  obscure  part  of  Paris, 
and  called  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night.  I  found  the  family 
looking  for  me.  The  father,  from  Virginia,  had  been  a 
buyer  of  silk,  but  the  house  he  represented  in  New  York 
had  failed  and  left  them  in  great  destitution.  I  really 
did  not  know  what  I  had  gone  for,  except  to  express  my 
sympathy,  but  a  rather  handsome  boy  of  about  twelve 
years  of  age  came  out  of  an  adjoining  room  in  his 
night  dress.  I  inquired  if  they  had  other  boys,  and  they 
took  me  into  their  sleeping  apartment,  where  I  found 
another  little  fellow  of  ten  or  eleven,  asleep.     I  asked 


348  Led  On  ! 


what  prospects  were  ahead  for  these  boys,  and  found  there 
was  really  little  hope  for  them  so  far  as  their  education 
was  concerned.  I  had  prayers  with  them,  and  then  said 
to  the  master  of  the  house  :  "  I  do  not  know  why  Miss 
Mason  asked  me  to  come  here,  unless  it  was  to  interest 
me  in  these  boys.  Suppose  I  take  them  to  America  and 
place  them  in  my  institute. ' ' 

Both  father  and  mother  said  they  had  been  praying  for 
two  years  that  some  means  would  be  found  to  send  these 
boys  home  to  be  educated. 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  perhaps  I  am  to  be  the  answer  to 
your  prayers.  I  have  been,  perhaps,  sent  for  them,  and 
I  will  take  them  on  two  conditions.  First,  that  I  can  get 
them  free  passages  to  America,  and  next  that  they  be  not 
interfered  with  by  any  of  the  family."  To  these  condi- 
tions they  readily  assented. 

On  my  return  to  I^ondon  I  called  on  Mr.  William 
Cunard  and  told  him  their  story. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  will  let  them  go  for  ten  pounds 
each."  I  said  I  did  not  have  the  twent}^  pounds,  but  I 
would  go  and  see  if  I  could  raise  the  amount. 

'*  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  you  have  to  get  it  from  anyone 
else,  I  may  as  well  give  it  myself,  and  if  you  will  go  home 
in  the  Abyssinia  I  will  pass  them  free." 

My  ticket  was  for  the  Gallia,  and  the  other  boat  was  to 
leave  before  I  was  ready,  but  the  way  seemed  so  clear, 
that  I  sent  for  the  boys,  Kendall  and  Henry,  and  after 
furnishing  them  both  with  a  full  outfit  of  clothes,  in 
which  some  friends  in  London  helped  me,  we  sailed  in 
the  Abyssinia  on  the  5th  of  July.  I  had  collected  seven 
thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  Here  it  is  a  good  place 
to  mention  that  my  English  friends,  from  first  to  last, 
have  contributed  forty-five  thousand  dollars  towards  the 
maintenance  of  this  work. 

As  the  school  had  closed,  I  took  these  two  boys  into  my 


I  Apply  for  the  A7^se7iaL  349 

family,  and  kept  Fendall  from  1879  to  1885,  Henry  from 
1879  to  1886,  and  most  faithfully  did  their  family  observe 
the  conditions.  I  never  received  from  them  in  all  these 
years  the  value  of  a  straw  hat  to  assist  in  clothing  them. 
In  1885  I  sent  Fendall  to  the  University  of  the  South. 
For  his  brother  Henry,  through  the  Rev.  K.  N.  Potter's 
kindness,  I  got  a  scholarship  at  Hobart  College.  He 
graduated  well,  at  the  head  of  a  small  class.  I  let  him 
teach  for  a  while,  and  then  sent  for  him  to  give  him  a 
position  in  my  school. 

During  my  absence  in  England,  my  son  Theodore  was 
ordained  on  the  4th  of  June,  1879,  by  the  Rt.  Rev.  John 
Williams,  to  the  order  of  deacon.  He  returned  with  me 
to  Charleston,  and  was  married  on  the  29th  of  July,  1879, 
to  Kate  Fuller,  with  whom  he  lived  in  happy  wedlock  for 
fourteen  years.  She  died  on  the  i8th  of  March,  1893, 
leaving  five  children.  Mysterious  are  the  orderings  of 
Divine  Providence  !  A  devoted  wife  and  mother,  and  to 
me  all  that  a  daughter  could  be  !  By  her  death  a  great 
shadow  fell  on  my  life,  for  she  was  the  brightening  of  my 
declining  days  when  the  light  went  out.  For  three  years 
my  son  and  myself  struggled  along  alone,  with  two  faith- 
ful colored  women-servants,  in  charge  of  this  family  of 
children,  the  youngest  twelve  days  old  when  the  mother 
died,  the  oldest  only  thirteen  years.  It  was  the  Father's 
will  and  we  accepted  it.  The  day  of  my  son's  wedding 
a  niece  of  mine  had  died,  leaving  two  little  children,  a  boy 
and  a  girl,  who  fell  to  our  lot  to  care  for.  Some  people 
are  dripping-pans  of  fortune  ;  my  fate  has  been  to  be  a 
dripping-pan  of  penniless  orphans.  I  first  had  my  wife's 
brother  Charles,  who  was  killed  in  the  civil  war  ;  then  a 
cousin,  Thomas  Ford,  whom  I  educated,  and  he  did  gallant 
servnce  as  captain  through  the  war  ;  then  two  daughters 
of  one  sister,  then  one  daughter  of  another.  In  1867,  the 
only  son  of  my  friend,  Joshua  Ward,   had  inherited  a 


350 


Led  On  ! 


million  dollars  from  his  father.  It  was  all  swept  away  by 
the  war,  and  when  he  died  he  left  his  only  son,  Samuel 
Mortimer,  to  my  wife  and  myself  without  a  dollar.  Then 
came  these  two  children  of  my  niece  in  1879,  and  so  on  ; 
all  through  my  dear  wife's  life,  she,  in  her  wretched 
health,  took  cheerfully  the  charge  of  one  after  another  of 
these  orphans  and  was  a  mother  to  them. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

OUR  NEW  HOMK   IN   THK   ARSBNAIy 

My  efforts  to  obtain  the  Charleston  arsenal  as  a  home  for 
my  school— Obstructio7is  and  oppositions— The  military 
committee  treats  me  generously —  The  kindness  of  Presi- 
dent Hayes — The  arsenal  is  duly  transferred  to  me — 
Newspaper  reflections  on  the  transfer —  Warm  support  of 
my  Philadelphia  friends. 


AS  soon  as  Congress  assembled  in  December,  1879,  I 
went  to  Washington.  Before  going  I  called  on  the 
party  who  had  tried  to  obstruct  me  in  getting  the  arsenal 
and  told  him  all  my  plans.  "  Now,"  I  said,  "  would  you 
try  to  defeat  so  great  a  public  benefaction  for  your  indi- 
vidual gratification?"  His  answer  was  characteristic. 
"  I  do  not  care  a  snap  for  the  public.  I  want  that  prop- 
erty and  I  mean  to  get  it.  Money  can  do  anything  in 
Washington."  "  Very  well,"  I  said  ;  "  I  shall  use  that 
speech  in  Washington. "  *  *  I  do  not  care  if  you  do, ' '  was 
his  reply.  *'  Agreed,"  I  said.  ''  The  longest  pole  will 
get  the  persimmon." 

I  did  not  tell  him  that  I  had  every  prominent  official  on 
record  in  its  favor.  I  knew  that  I  would  not  have  to  pay 
one  dollar,  and  I  knew  his  fortune,  twice  told,  could  not 
get  the  property.     My  only  object  in  seeing  him  was  to 

351 


352  Led  On! 

get  it  through  Congress  without  any  opposition  from 
Charleston.  In  any  case  I  knew  I  would  not  come  out 
worsted.  I  had  taken  with  me  to  Washington  very  strong 
letters  from  my  staunch  friend,  Hon.  Clarkson  N.  Potter 
and  others,  some  to  Democrats  and  some  to  Republicans. 

Day  after  day  passed,  and  I  sat  on  the  Senate  Chamber 
floor  beside  General  Hampton,  who  was  to  watch  his 
opportunity  to  call  up  the  joint  resolution  from  the  calen- 
dar. Oh,  what  anxious  daj^s  those  were  !  I  had  told 
General  Butler  what  had  been  said  about  money  being 
able  to  do  an3'thing  in  Washington,  and  with  a  term 
more  emphatic  than  I  can  repeat,  the  General  replied  : 
"  He  said  that  ?     Well,  I  will  show  him." 

On  the  1 2th  of  December,  there  was  a  lull  in  business 
in  the  Senate,  when  General  Butler  said  to  General 
Hampton,  ''  Now  is  the  time  to  call  for  the  resolution." 
General  Hampton  answered,  "  I  will  do  it."  Then  Gen- 
eral Butler  asked  consent  to  take  it  from  the  calendar. 
How  my  heart  did  beat !  Consent  was  given  and  General 
Butler  read  it.  When  Senator  Edmunds  from  Vermont 
rose  and  said  :  '  *  What  does  General  Sherman  say  about 
this  transfer  ?  ' '  No  better  card  could  have  been  played 
for  General  Butler,  who  said :  "  I  will  read  General  Sher- 
man's  endorsement,  which  is  very  strong,"  "  Does  Gen- 
eral Sherman  say  that  ?  ' '  asked  Mr.  Edmunds,  when  the 
endorsement  had  been  read.  **  If  the  gentleman  wishes 
to  see,  I  will  hand  him  the  paper,"  said  General  Butler. 
**  Certainly  not  ;  I  am  satisfied,  and  I  will  vote  for  it." 

I  had  letters  to  Mr.  Blaine,  having  spent  an  evening 
with  him  at  his  house,  and  he  had  promised  me  his  sup- 
port, and  had  the  next  day  crossed  the  floor  of  the  Senate 
to  give  General  Butler  the  assurance  of  his  support.  As 
Senator  Edmunds  ceased  speaking,  the  resolution  was 
offered,  and  passed  the  Senate  unanimously.  General 
Hampton,  General  M.  C.  Butler,  Senator  Bayard,  Gover- 


Our  New  Home  in  the  Arsenal.        353 

nor  Randolph,  and  others  shook  my  hand  warmly,  and 
congratulated  me  on  the  progress  of  the  affair.  Governor 
Baldwin  of  Michigan,  a  warm  friend  of  mine,  told  me 
afterwards,  no  sooner  had  the  action  been  taken,  than 
Senator  Logan  came  in  from  the  cloak-room,  into  which 
he  had  gone  only  five  minutes  before,  and  asked,  **  What 
is  that  you  have  passed  ?  "  When  he  was  told,  he  said, 
'  *  Why  I  meant  to  have  opposed  that, ' '  but  several  Re- 
publican Senators  said  to  him  :  **  It  is  a  good  thing  it  is 
done,  and  we  are  glad  you  were  not  here,  if  you  had  any 
such  intention." 

Governor  Baldwin  once  told  me  some  years  after, 
' '  Doctor  Porter,  God  seems  to  watch  over  you  with  lov- 
ing care.  But  for  General  Logan  leaving  the  Chamber 
for  those  five  minutes,  there  is  no  telling  what  might  have 
been  the  fate  of  the  paper"  ;  and  he  added,  "I  never 
knew  while  I  was  in  the  Senate  another  moment  when 
it  could  have  been  done  in  the  manner  it  was."  I  was  a 
happy  man  that  night. 

The  news  was  flashed  to  Charleston,  but  there  was  one 
man  there  not  happy  next  day. 

The  House  of  Representatives  had  to  be  faced.  * '  Now, '  * 
said  General  Butler,  *  *  we  must  get  Mr.  Evans  of  Spartans- 
burg,  South  Carolina,  to  take  charge  of  the  resolution." 
Hon.  M.  P.  O'Connor  would  cheerfully  have  done  so,  but 
it  was  thought  expedient  to  bring  in  interest  from  the 
interior  of  the  State.  General  Butler  told  Mr.  Evans 
that  he  must,  if  possible,  get  me  before  the  Military  Com- 
mittee of  the  House,  to  which  the  resolution  went  after  it 
had  passed  the  Senate.  By  great  good  fortune  this  was 
effected,  and  on  its  first  meeting  I  was  invited  in.  To  my 
great  joy  I  saw  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston  was  a  member 
of  the  Committee.  He  recognized  and  saluted  me,  and  I 
was  politely  invited  to  take  a  seat,  when  the  Chairman  of 

the  Committee,  who,  with  a  majority  of  its  members  were 
23 


354  Led  On  ! 


Republicans,  asked  me  how  I  had  managed  to  get  such 
an  endorsement  as  this  from  General  Sherman.  I  said, 
**  It  is  rather  a  long  story,  but  if  you  have  the  time  to 
hear  I  will  tell."  "  Let  us  hear  it,"  the  Chairman  an- 
swered. Then  I  related  in  full  my  adventure  with 
McQueen,  who  was  on  General  Howard's  escort.  This 
adventure  had  brought  General  Howard  and  myself  to- 
gether, and  he  had  brought  me  to  General  Sherman,  who 
became  my  warm  friend.  The  Committee  listened  witli 
intense  interest.  I  had  no  sooner  finished,  than  General 
Johnston  arose,  and  said :  * '  Gentlemen,  every  word  of  that 
story  is  true.  I  am  the  officer  to  whom  Mr.  Porter  brought 
that  young  Federal  officer.  I  thought  it  then,  as  I  think 
it  now,  a  noble  deed  on  his  part,  and  I  gave  the  young 
man  his  parole  without  exchange,  and  told  him  to  stay  in 
Raleigh  until  General  Sherman  occupied  it." 

The  whole  Committee  to  a  man  rose.  The  Chairman 
came  forward,  took  my  hand,  and  said  :  **Such  a  man 
should  get  anything  he  asks  from  the  Government.  I  am 
sure  you  will  have  the  unanimous  recommendation  of  this 
Committee."  Ever3^one  of  them  shook  hands  with  me, 
and  told  me  I  should  have  it,  and  that  afternoon  their 
recommendation  came  in  and  was  placed  on  the  calendar. 
I  went  over  to  Mrs.  Ogle  Taylor,  to  tell  her  the  good 
news,  for  the  battle  was  half  won.  "  But,"  I  said,  "  if  it 
passes  the  house,  it  will  have  to  go  to  the  President  and 
pass  that  ordeal. ' '  She  immediately  wrote  a  note  to  Mrs. 
Hayes  and  sent  it  to  the  White  House,  and  asked  if  the 
President  and  herself  would  be  at  home  the  next  day  as 
she  wished  to  bring  a  friend  to  introduce  to  them.  Mrs. 
Hayes  replied,  that  the  President  and  herself  would  be 
at  home,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  Mrs.  Taylor  with  her 
friend.  Friday  evening  we  went  over  to  the  White 
House,  and  found  our  hosts  alone.  "  Now,"  Mrs. 
Taylor  said  to  me,  ' '  tell  the  President  the  story  of  your 


Our  Nezu  Home  in  the  Arsenal.        355 


work. ' '  Which  I  did  concisely,  and  found  that  I  had  in- 
terested my  hearers,  especially  Mrs.  Hayes,  who  said  : 
'  *  You  must  have  it,  you  must  have  the  arsenal,  and  yoiir 
boys  must  be  brought  up  under  the  old  flag." 

When  leaving,  I  said,  "  Mr.  President,  nothing  will  be 
done  until  Monday.  If  the  resolution  passes  the  House, 
as  it  has  passed  the  Senate,  it  will  have  to  come  to  you. 
I  am  going  to-night  to  Charleston.  I  have  to  preach  a 
special  sermon  there  on  Sunday  ;  but  I  will  be  back  by 
Tuesday.  If  the  resolution  reaches  you  before  my  re- 
turn," I  added,  turning  to  Mrs.  Hayes,  and  bowing,  "  I 
leave  myself  in  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Hayes."  The  Presi- 
dent laughed  and  said  :  "  I  cannot  tell  what  influence 
Mrs.  Hayes  has  with  Congress,  but  she  certainly  has  great 
influence  over  the  President."  "  Then  I  am  safe,"  I  an- 
swered. We  were  all  pleased  with  the  graceful  turn  the 
President  had  given  to  the  incident,  and  I  left  in  very  high 
spirits.  I  started  that  night  for  Charleston,  discharged 
my  duties  there,  and  left  for  Washington  on  Sunday 
night.  On  my  arrival  on  Tuesday  morning,  my  friend 
Rev.  Dr.  ElHott  told  me  a  severe  attack  had  been  made 
on  me  in  the  New  York  Times.  I  hastened  to  the  Capitol, 
and  in  the  library  of  the  Senate  Chamber  found  the  paper 
containing  the  attack.  However,  I  went  boldly  to  those 
who  I  heard  would  oppose  me.  Hon.  Randolph  Tucker 
introduced  me  to  General  Garfield,  the  leader  of  the  Re- 
publican side  of  the  House,  and  I  called  at  his  house  that 
night,  and  told  him  my  story  in  brief.  He  said  the  piece 
in  the  Times  had  had  an  effect,  but  he  promised  to  correct 
it  for  me.  Like  Mr.  Blaine  in  the  Senate,  he  expressed 
much  pleasure  to  hear  of  such  a  work,  and  pledged  his 
assistance.  I  saw  the  reporter  for  the  Times,  and  told 
him  the  facts.  He  expressed  great  regret  at  having 
written  the  article,  and  said  he  would  correct  it  ;  which  he 
did,  but  it  did  not  appear  in  his  paper  until  its  necessity 


35^  Led  On! 


had  passed.  General  Hunt  was  in  Washington,  and  he  got 
General  Fitz  John  Porter  to  use  his  influence.  General 
Sherman  was  roused  by  the  attack  and  he  exerted  himself 
in  my  behalf.  General  Butler  gave  himself  up  to  seeing 
the  members  of  the  House.  Two  or  three  days  passed, 
and  no  opportunity  occurred  to  call  it  up,  till  at  length 
General  Butler  came  over  from  the  Senate  Chamber  to 
the  Speaker  of  the  House,  and  begged  him  to  recognize 
Mr.  Dargan,  and  briefly  told  him  what  for.  God  must 
have  opened  the  hearts  of  the  people,  for  the  Speaker  con- 
sented. General  Butler  spoke  to  Mr.  Dargan,  and  as  I 
was  in  the  gallery  I  saw  him  rise  and  the  Speaker  recog- 
nized him.  The  resolution  was  read.  A  member  on  the 
Republican  side  rose  and  began  to  speak  against  it,  but 
Mr.  Chittenden,  a  friend  of  mine,  sitting  by  him,  pulled 
his  coat  and  whispered  something  to  him,  and  he  took 
his  seat  again,  but  I  was  in  such  a  state  of  excitement 
that  I  could  not  stand  any  more.  My  nervous  system  for 
a  week  had  been  overtaxed,  and  I  went  down  to  Mr. 
Butler's  room,  thinking  nothing  could  be  done,  but  in 
those  few  moments  the  favorable  report  of  the  Military 
Committee  was  read,  the  vote  taken — one  hundred  and 
eighteen  ayes  and  thirty-six  noes.  As  soon  as  it  was  de- 
clared passed.  General  Butler's  son  came  rushing  into  his 
father's  room,  saying,  "  We  have  got  it,  we  have  got  it." 
' '  Got  what, ' '  I  said.  ' '  Why,  the  arsenal.  The  resolu- 
tion has  passed  five  to  one. ' '  It  was  then  my  turn  to  rush 
down  to  the  lobby  of  the  House,  where  I  met  the  whole 
South  Carolina  delegation.  The  House  had  adjourned, 
but  not  until  it  had  pavSsed  the  resolution  ;  and  if  ever  a 
man  was  congratulated,  I  was  by  every  one  of  them.  I 
felt  sure  now,  for  that  morning  the  President  had  told  me 
he  would  sign  it  if  it  passed,  and  I  felt  that  this,  which 
would  give  such  an  impetus  to  my  work,  was  an  accom- 
plished fact.     I  thanked  God,  and  prayed  for  wisdom  and 


Our  New  Home  in  the  Arsenal,        357 

strength  for  the  increased  responsibility,  and  that  the 
hearts  of  many  would  be  opened  to  me.  The  members  of 
Congress  told  me  what  to  do,  what  course  had  to  be  pur- 
sued, and  I  went  at  it  at  once.  I  approached  each  person 
who  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  and  next  day  I  followed 
the  messenger  from  the  Capitol  to  the  White  House,  he 
having  the  resolution  to  submit  to  the  President.  I  had 
no  difficulty  in  getting  it  sent  to  the  President,  or  to  get 
admittance  with  it,  and  said  :  "  Mr.  President,  here  is 
the  resolution. "  "  Why, ' '  he  answered,  * '  you  have  been 
expeditious."  He  read  it  over,  took  up  his  pen,  and 
signed  it  at  once.  It  was  then  registered,  and  the  paper 
delivered  to  me. 

Thus,  in  seven  days  from  the  day  that  General  Butler 
called  up  the  Resolution,  the  whole  transaction  was  com- 
pleted. I  was  told  that  such  expedition  had  never  been 
known  in  Congress  before.  The  Adjutant- General  issued 
the  following  paper: 

Headquarters  of  the  Army 
Adjutant  Generai^'s  Office. 

A  Joint  Resolution  of  Congress,  approved  Dec.  19, 
1879,  entitled.  Joint  Resolution  to  transfer  the  arsenal 
property,  in  the  City  of  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  to  the 
Trustees  of  the  Holy  Communion  Church  Institute,  for 
the  use  and  accommodation  of  said  school  required, — 

' '  That  the  Secretary  of  War  be  and  is  hereby  authorized 
and  directed  to  lease  and  deliver  possession  upon  such 
terms  and  conditions  as  to  him  may  seem  best,  for  the  use 
of,  or  in  the  interests  of,  the  Government,  to  the  Trustees 
of  the  Holy  Communion  Church  Institute,  the  property 
known  as  the  arsenal,  situated  in  the  city  of  Charleston, 
State  of  South  Carolina,  together  with  all  the  buildings, 
rights,  and  appurtenances  thereto  belonging,  to  be  had 
and  held  by  said  Trustees  for  the  use  and  accommodation 


35^  Led  On  I 


of  said  School  for  such  time  as  said  lease  may  run,  if  not 
theretofore  required  by  the  Secretary  of  War. 

"  Sec.  2.  That  the  Secretary  of  War  be,  and  is  hereby 
authorized  to  make  such  terms  and  arrangements  with 
said  Trustees,  for  the  care,  and  protection  of  said  property 
during  its  occupancy  by  said  School,  and  for  the  re- 
delivering of  possession  to  the  Government  when  thereto 
required,  as  will  best  subserve  the  interests  of  the  Govern- 
ment, provided  that  the  Government  shall  not  be  required 
to  pay  for  any  improvements  that  may  be  placed  on  said 
grounds  during  the  continuance  of  the  lease." 

Accordingly  the  Secretary  of  War  directs,  that  the 
United  States  property  known  as  the  arsenal  (Charleston 
Barracks),  situated  in  the  city  of  Charleston,  State  of 
South  Carolina,  together  with  all  the  buildings,  rights,  and 
appurtenances,  and  the  United  States  flag  thereto  belong- 
ing, be  transferred  to  the  Rev.  A.  Toomer  Porter,  D.D., 
to  hold  until  a  lease  of  said  property  is  duly  executed  by 
the  Secretary  of  War. 

The  Quartermaster's  ordnance,  and  other  property  in 
store,  at  the  arsenal,  will  be  properly  disposed  of  under 
the  direction  of  the  Department. 

By  command  of  General  Sherman, 

B.    D.    TOWNSKND, 

Adj  utant- General. 

In  due  time  this  lease  for  ninety-nine  years  at  one  dol- 
lar a  year  was  dulj^  executed.  The  reader  will  find  when 
he  reaches  the  record  of  ten  years  after,  how  that  lease 
was  supplemented  by  an  act  of  Congress,  signed  by  the 
President,  givdng  a  fee  simple  title  to  this  property  to 
the  Trustees,  the  only  condition  being  that  it  shall  always 
be  used  for  educational  purposes. 

The  article  which  appeared  in  the  New  York  Times, 
attracted  some  attention,  and  what  was  meant  to  do  me 


Our  New  Home  in  the  Arsenal.        359 


harm,  in  God's  providence  resulted  in  much  good.  I  put 
it  here  on  permanent  record  in  the  appendix.  The  Wash- 
ington correspondent  says  : 

"  A  very  objectionable  Joint  Resolution  was  passed  very 
quietly  in  the  Senate,  upon  the  motion  of  Mr.  Butler  of 
South  Carolina,  and  in  the  absence  of  Messrs.  Edmunds, 
Logan,  and  McMillan,  who  had  been  prepared  to  oppose 
it.  The  original  Resolution,  which  was  introduced  May 
6,  1879,  authorized  and  directed  the  Secretary  of  War  to 
transfer  the  United  States  arsenal  property  in  Charleston, 
South  Carolina,  to  the  Trustees  of  the  Holy  Communion 
Church  Institute,  to  be  held  by  those  Trustees  for  the  use 
of  the  school  as  long  as  it  is  not  wanted  by  the  Govern- 
ment, etc. 

*  *  This  arsenal  is  not  now  used  by  the  Government,  and 
like  other  unoccupied  arsenals,  is  left  to  the  care  of  an 
ordnance  sergeant.  The  Rev.  A.  Toomer  Porter  is  the 
rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion  in  Charles- 
ton, and  after  the  war  he  came  to  the  North  to  raise  sub- 
scriptions to  aid  his  church.  Attached  to  his  church  is  a 
sectarian  school,  under  his  charge,  and  for  some  time  he 
has  desired  to  obtain  possession  of  the  United  States 
arsenal,  with  its  large  buildings,  for  the  use  of  his  school, 
at  a  nominal  rent,  for  a  long  period.  Leading  Republicans 
in  Charleston  have  opposed  this  design  on  the  ground  that 
this  school  is  sectarian,  aristocratic,  and  exclusive,  and 
one  to  which  the  children  of  no  Union  man  or  Republican 
can  gain  admission.  They  assert  that  the  youths  educated 
in  it  are  taught  the  extreme  doctrines  which  were  held  in 
the  South  before  the  war,  and  were  powerful  in  causing 
the  war,  and  they  claim,  if  the  Government  has  no  use 
for  the  arsenal,  and  desires  to  leave  it,  it  would  be  more 
equitable  to  the  residents  of  the  State,  and  more  profit- 
able to  the  Government,  to  allow  competition  for  it,  and 
lease  it  to  the  highest  bidder.     Some  day,  if  it  is  no  longer 


360  Led  On  / 


of  use,  it  should  be  sold,  and  the  proceeds  carried  into  the 
Treasury;  but  all  agree,  that  special  privileges  should  not 
be  granted  to  this  aristocratic  school,  in  which  they  say 
pupils  and  teachers  are  unfriendly  to  the  Government. 
Having  no  Representatives  on  the  floor  of  Congress,  the 
Republicans  of  South  Carolina  depend  for  support  upon 
Republican  Senators  and  Representatives  from  other 
States,  and  think  these  gentlemen  should  guard  their  in- 
terests. It  was  stated  by  Mr.  Butler  in  urging  the  passage 
of  the  Resolution,  that  the  transfer  had  been  recommended 
by  the  Secretary  of  War  and  General  Sherman,  but  those 
who  oppose  the  transaction  say  that  these  officers  could 
not  have  fully  understood  the  matter. ' ' 

It  was  not  difficult  to  find  who  had  inspired  the  article. 
The  agent  from  Charleston,  finding  he  had  failed  to  stop 
the  progress  any  other  way,  supposed  he  could  instil  into 
these  Republican  Senators  and  Representatives  views 
which  were  absolutely  false  in  every  particular,  save  as 
related  to  General  Logan.  If  Mr.  Edmunds  had  intended 
to  oppose,  he  was  not  absent,  but  his  few  words  secured 
the  unanimous  vote  of  the  Republican  Senators.  At  the 
very  time  two  sons  of  a  prominent  Republican  official 
were  members  of  the  school,  and  as  soon  as  the  article 
was  seen  a  number  of  Republicans,  white  and  colored, 
united  in  writing  to  me  a  paper  in  which  they  denied 
their  opposition.  So  far  from  opposing  me,  they  would 
do  anything  they  could  for  me,  if  I  needed  their  assistance  ; 
and  so  false  statements  ran  through  the  whole  paper.  My 
record  at  home  and  abroad  had  been  for  fourteen  years  so 
pronounced  as  to  my  views  with  regard  to  the  duties  of 
citizens  who  in  good  faith  had  laid  down  arms,  that  the 
charge  that  vc^y  pupils  were  taught  the  extreme  doctrines 
held  in  the  South  before  the  war  was  so  extremely 
absurd  it  was  easy  to  confute,  and  as  I  have  said,  the 
writer  retracted  the  whole  article  and  apologized.     It  was 


Our  New  Ho7ne  in  the  Arsenal,        361 

so  unjust,  however,  and  my  friends  at  the  North  were  so 
much  afraid  it  would  do  me  harm,  that  some  of  them  wrote 
a  special  article  and  published  it  in  several  of  the  Phila- 
delphia papers,  sent  it  to  New  York,  and  had  it  published 
there.* 

I  was  entirely  ignorant  of  their  act  of  kindness,  as  I  had 
heard  nothing  of  it,  nor  had  seen  the  paper.  I  forget  now 
what  induced  me,  but  after  getting  the  resolution  approved 
by  the  President,  I  ran  up  to  Philadelphia  for  a  little  rest, 
and  was  the  guest  of  Rev.  Mr.  McVickar,  who  read  to  me 
this  communication,  which  of  course  was  very  grateful  to 
me.  The  signers  of  it  did  not  know  I  was  coming  to 
Philadelphia,  as  no  communication  had  passed  between 
us.  Their  action  had  been  dictated  by  Christian  love  and 
justice  towards  an  abse^kt  brother.  The  week  after  this 
there  appeared  in  the  Episcopal  Register^  an  editorial  under 
the  heading,  ' '  The  Charleston  Arsenal  turned  to  the  Uses 
of  Peace  and  Education."  It  detailed  the  circumstances 
I  have  just  related  and  ended  thus  : 

**  The  liberal  contributions  already  made  in  this  city  for 
his  work  show  how  unjust  assaults  are  mercifully  turned 
into  benefits,  and  it  is  only  proper  to  add,  that  no  man  in 
the  South  has  done  more  to  allay  sectional  bitterness,  and 
further  good-will  to  men  throughout  the  country,  than 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Porter."  f 

This  editorial  was  an  immense  help  to  me  in  the  com- 

*  See  Appendix  D. 

f  I  see,  in  looking  over  these  papers,  I  am  called  Doctor.  It  had 
escaped  my  mind  to  say  that  in  the  year  1876  I  was  at  one  of  the 
Commencement  exercises  of  Union  College,  Schenectady.  I  was 
astounded  by  hearing  my  name  called  out  with  some  distinguished 
gentlemen — Rev.  C.  Vedder  of  Charleston,  and  others — as  having 
the  degree  of  D.D.  conferred  on  me  by  the  Trustees.  I  had  to 
laugh,  for  never  was  the  honor  bestowed  on  one  more  utterly  un- 
worthy to  receive  it.  My  life  has  been  too  exacting,  too  active, 
too  much  employed  with  aflfairs,  to  enable  me  to  be  a  student.    I 


362 


Led  On  / 


passing  of  my  great  undertaking.  As  I  recount  all  these 
wonderful  deliverances  that  have  come  to  me  in  time  of 
the  greatest  needs,  I  reproach  mj^self  most  earnestly  when 
this  poor  heart  fails  me  in  emergencies.  God  has  not 
changed,  and  if  it  be  in  accord  with  his  Divine  will,  He 
will  in  His  own  way  raise  up  some  means  for  the  necessi- 
ties of  His  work.  If  I  have  been  faithful  to  my  trust,  I 
want  it  to  go  on  record  that  if  ever  this  work  fails,  it  is 
not  that  pra3^er  and  faith  are  absolutely  ineffectual,  but 
simply  because  the  poor,  weak,  earthen  vessel  has  failed. 
To  God  be  all  the  glory,  to  me  be  all  the  blame. 

have  to  do  a  great  deal  of  reading,  but  study  very  little,  and  I  pro- 
tested that  while  I  appreciated  the  compliment,  it  was  too  unde- 
served ;  but  my  protest  was  unheeded,  and  so  through  the  kind 
feeling  of  Rev.  Dr.  E.  N.  Potter  I  have  borne  this  title  ever  since. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 


SCHOOL  OPKNS   IN  THE  ARSENAL 


Ceremo7iies  attending  the  opening  of  the  arsenal  as  our  new 
home — Points  of  ?ny  parochial  work — Mr.  E.  R.  Mudge 
of  Bosto7i — His  soldier  son — Progress  of  our  school. 

1  RETURNED  to  Charleston  on  the  24th  of  December, 
1879,  having  had  all  the  papers  for  the  transference 
of  the  arsenal  properly  made  out  in  Washington.  Before 
service  on  Christmas  morning  I  went  to  the  arsenal  with 
the  workman,  a  very  intelligent  colored  man  named  Bell, 
and  pointed  out  the  work  necessary  to  be  done  at  once. 
A  kitchen  and  pantry  had  to  be  built,  the  store-room  con- 
verted into  a  dining-room  and  study  hall,  the  second  and 
third  stories  to  be  converted  into  dormitories,  and  other 
changes  absolutely  necessary  to  be  made.  I  had  no  funds 
with  which  to  carry  on  the  work,  but  I  felt  after  such  an 
achievement  friends  would  now  come  forward  and  help 
me.  On  the  8th  of  January,  1854,  as  a  young  man  not 
twenty-five  years  old,  I  had  held  my  first  service  in  one  of 
these  buildings,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  day  would  be 
the  proper  time  for  a  grand  ceremonial.  I  accordingly 
prepared  a  programme  which  I  submitted  to  the  Bishop, 
and  on  the  8th  of  January,  1880,  just  twenty-six  years 
from  the  day  I  came  on  one  cloudy  Sunday  morning  to 
minister  there  to  eight  people,  I  took  formal  possession 

363 


364  Led  On  ! 

of  the  whole  property.  Manifold  have  been  Thy  mercies 
to  me,  O  God,  and  wonderfully  hast  Thou  used  one  of  the 
most  unworthy  of  Thy  servants  to  manifest  Thy  power  to 
the  people  with  whom  I  have  lived  ! 

We  had  sent  invitations  far  and  wide,  and  I  received 
congratulatory  letters  from  Mr.  John  Eaton,  Commissioner 
of  Education,  Mr.  James  S.  Amor>^,  of  Boston,  Gen.  Henry 
J.  Hunt,  U.  S.  A.,  Mr.  C.  T.  Eowndes,  Dr.  Manning 
Simons,  Gen.  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  Gen.  W.  T.  Sherman, 
Judge  A.  G.  Magrath,  and  many  others.  These  letters 
have  all  been  published  and  preserved  in  my  little  volume 
of  the  History  of  a  Work  of  Faith  and  Love,  so  they  need 
not  be  presented  here.  The  ceremonies  as  reported  next 
day  in  the  daily  papers  were  as  follows  : 

*  *  The  celebration  of  the  formal  occupation  of  the  grounds 
and  buildings  hitherto  used  as  the  United  States  arsenal 
by  the  Trustees  of  the  Holy  Communion  Church  Institute 
was  an  impressive  event.  The  ceremonies  were  simple, 
but  conveyed,  as  they  were  meant  to  do,  an  expression  of 
the  warm  sympathy  of  the  community  with  the  work,  and 
the  general  satisfaction  at  the  success  that  has  so  far  at- 
tended it.  A  short  service  consisting  of  the  Creed,  some 
Collects,  and  the  Lord's  Prayer  was  held  at  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Communion.  Promptly  at  five  o'clock  the  pro- 
cession moved  from  the  Church  in  the  following  order  : 

St.  Patrick's  Helicon  Band,  the  Washington  Light  In- 
fantry, Capt.  G.  D.  Bryan  ;  Charleston  Riflemen,  Capt. 
R.  J.  Magill  ;  carriages  containing  the  Bishop  in  his  robes 
and  the  clergy  in  surplices  ;  ofificers  of  the  Army  and  Navy 
of  the  United  States  ;  Judge  of  the  United  States  Court, 
and  other  officers  ;  Mr.  James  G.  Holmes  and  Mr.  W.  M. 
Lawton,  two  venerable  and  prominent  citizens  ;  the  Mayor 
and  City  Council  ;  Honorary  Members  of  the  Washington 
Eight  Infantry ;  President  and  Faculty  of  Charleston  Col- 
lege ;  Teachers  of  Schools  ;  Board  of  Trustees,  Holy  Com- 


School  Opens  in  the  Arsenal.  365 

munion  Churcli  Institute,  Principal  and  Teachers  of  the 
Institute,  Alumni  Students  and  Residents  of  the  Institute, 
with  a  long  procession  of  citizens  on  foot.  In  this  order 
the  procession  moved  down  Ashley  Street  to  Doughty,  to 
President,  up  President  to  Bee,  and  back  through  Ashley 
to  the  gate.  Here  those  who  were  in  carriages  alighted, 
and  all  passed  in  on  foot.  Three  large  flags  were  sus- 
pended at  intervals  ;  the  United  States  flag,  the  State 
flag,  and  a  large  white  banner  with  a  red  cross,  and 
H.  C.  C.  I.,  1867,  in  large  red  letters  on  it.  The  Bishop 
preceded,  reading  a  remarkably  appropriate  selection  of 
verses  from  the  Psalter,  the  clergy  responding  immediately 
behind  him,  followed  by  the  choir-boys  in  their  cassocks 
and  cottas.  The  procession  had  encompassed  the  grounds 
when  the  Bishop  finished,  and  the  choir-boys  sang  the 

hymn, 

'  Glorious  things  of  Thee  are  spoken, 

Zion  City  of  our  God.' 
which  was  taken  up  by  the  crowd  assembled,  among 
whom  were  very  many  ladies.  The  national  flag,  which 
had  been  given  by  the  order  of  General  Sherman, 
floated  from  the  flagstaff".  The  two  military  companies 
presented  arms,  as  the  Bishop  and  clergy  and  guests 
filed  into  the  very  building  Doctor  Porter  had  held 
his  first  service  in  twenty-six  years  ago  on  this  day." 
Then,  'and  now,  the  choir  sang,  ''The  Church's  one 
foundation,"  the  Bishop  repeated  the  Creed  and  a  Collect, 

and  Rev.  A.  Toomer  Porter  rose  and  said,  ** ."     It 

was  a  long  oration,  too  long  for  this  work,  but  it  is  printed 
in  a  book  for  preservation.  The  Hon.  W.  D.  Porter, 
known  as  the  silver-tongued  orator,  then  delivered  an 
address  as  only  he  could  do.  Mayor  W.  A.  Courtenay, 
my  friend  from  boyhood,  then  addressed  the  audience 
with  words  which  came  from  his  heart.  Mr.  S.  Y.  Tupper, 
the  President  of  the   Chamber  of  Commerce,   then  ad- 


366  Led  On  / 

dressed  the  audience  in  a  most  noteworthy  speech.  Mr. 
Tapper  was  a  Baptist,  and  his  pastor  had  made  a  violent 
attack  upon  the  whole  transaction,  and  Mr.  Tupper's 
speech  was  a  pointed  rebuke.  The  Bishop,  Rt.  Rev.  W. 
B.  W.  Howe,  made  the  closing  address.  Nothing  ever 
fell  from  Bishop  Howe's  lips  that  was  not  good,  and 
now  he  declared  that  he  was  grateful  that  God  had  so 
blessed  the  labors  of  one  of  the  presbyters  of  his  diocese. 
All  these  addresses  are  also  published  in  my  little  book  ; 
therefore,  they  are  not  here  repeated.  A  warm  editorial 
of  the  News  a7id  Courier  concluded  with  the  words,  ' '  The 
transfer  of  the  arsenal  to  the  Church  Institute  was  the 
joint  work  of  the  President,  the  Cabinet,  and  Congress. 
Both  Democrats  and  Republicans  supported  the  proposi- 
tion. This  is,  as  Doctor  Porter  saj^s,  '  Practical  Recon- 
struction,' honorable  alike  to  both  parties,  to  North  and 
South,  to  President  and  people.  The  ambition  of  Doctor 
Porter's  life  bids  fair  to  be  realized,  and  the  greater  his 
success  the  broader  and  deeper  the  benefit  to  the  people 
of  the  State." 

The  improvements  and  alterations  had  so  far  progressed 
that  on  the  nth  of  February,  1880,  Mr.  Gadsden,  the 
principal,  and  Miss  Seabrook,  the  matron,  moved  with 
all  the  boys  into  quarters  in  the  arsenal.  I  had  to  use  the 
old  schoolhouse  for  some  months  until  I  could  convert  the 
foundry,  which  the  Confederate  Government  had  built 
during  the  war,  into  a  schoolhouse,  changing  its  use  from 
moulding  bullets  into  moulding  brains  and  hearts  and 
characters.  It  cost  the  Government  twelve  thousand 
dollars  to  remove  the  old  cannon  and  shot  and  shell,  etc., 
a  work  which  General  Sherman  had  done  as  expeditiously 
as  possible.  I  was  then  living  at  the  corner  of  Rutledge 
Avenue  and  Spring  Street,  and  one  day  General  Sherman 
asked  me  if  I  was  not  going  to  move  into  the  arsenal  ?  I 
told  him,  No.     * '  How  ever  can  you  manage  such  a  work 


School  Ope7is  in  the  Arsenal,  367 

if  you  are  not  on  the  spot?"  I  soon  saw  that  he  was 
right,  and  with  my  wife's  consent  we  left  the  house  en- 
deared to  us  by  many  associations  and  moved  into  these 
grounds.  Thrown  more  immediately  in  contact  with  the 
work.  I  very  soon  found  it  necessary  to  take  the  reins  into 
my  own  hands  and  apply  myself  to  the  remodelling  and 
development  of  that  which  had  been  but  a  large  private 
school,  into  what  had  become  a  great  public  institution. 
My  friends  had  cheered  me  with  their  presence  and  their 
words.  They  little  knew  the  mighty  burden  I  had  as- 
sumed, but  I  did  not  fear  that  God,  who  had  given  me  the 
work,  would  fail  to  give  also  the  strength  to  carry  it  on. 

Up  to  the  time  that  we  had  been  in  my  private  buildings 
two  thousand  boys  had  been  under  my  charge,  and  I  had 
sent  sixty-three  to  college.  In  all  those  years  there  had 
been  but  one  death  in  the  institution.  The  sum  necessary 
to  fit  up  the  buildings  for  our  use  amounted  to  sixteen 
thousand  dollars,  and  I  had  not  a  dollar  to  do  it  with,  but 
from  one  source  and  another  the  money  came.  Miss  E. 
F.  Mason  and  Miss  Ida  Mason,  of  Boston,  Massachusetts, 
were  in  Cannes,  France,  when  they  heard  of  my  success, 
and  each  sent  me  one  thousand  dollars,  and  from  then 
until  now  they  have  been  my  steadfast  friends.  I  have 
never  needed  to  ask  their  aid.  Yearly  they  have  munifi- 
cently helped  me,  and  as  I  have  said  before,  but  for  their 
systematic  annual  aid,  I  do  not  see  how  this  institution 
could  have  lived  a  year.     God  bless  them  ! 

Our  thirteenth  year  closed  with  a  debt  of  two  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars  for  current  expenses,  and  eight 
thousand  due  on  the  improvements  of  buildings  and 
grounds.  The  property  could  not  have  been  available 
without  these  improvements  and  adaptations,  and  I  felt 
that  I  had  been  carried  on  by  the  felt  but  unseen  power 
of  God  ;  and  I  knew  that  He  would  not  forsake  me.  It 
is  a  wonderful  record,   that  I,  single-handed,    with   no 


368  Led  On  ! 


counsellor  except  my  wife,  should  have  gone  unheralded 
to  Washington,  with  a  long  line  of  preparatory  Provi- 
dences stretching  through  a  series  of  years,  each  appar- 
ently independent  of  the  other,  but  all  preparing  the  way; 
should  have  come  from  Charleston,  the  hotbed  of  seces- 
sion, and  gone  to  a  Republican  General  of  the  armies,  a 
Republican  President  and  Cabinet,  to  a  Republican  Con- 
gress, either,  or  any  one  of  whom,  could  have  put  an  insur- 
mountable obstacle  in  my  way,  and  yet,  step  by  step,  each 
became  my  friend,  cooperated  with  me,  and  delivered  to 
me  without  money  or  price  that  which  no  money  could 
have  bought.  Reader,  go  back  with  me  to  the  grave  of 
my  child,  on  that  25th  of  October,  1867,  and  stand  with 
me  in  those  grounds  this  8th  of  January,  1880,  knowing 
all  the  facts — was  it  infatuation,  enthusiasm,  delusion  ;  or 
was  it  inspiration,  the  finger  and  the  voice  of  God  that 
had  driven  me  forward  ?  Whatever  you  may  think,  my 
conviction  is  as  strong  this  night,  23d  February,  1897,  ^s 
it  was  thirty  years  ago — yes,  stronger,  for  I  did  not  know 
then  what  experience  has  taught  me  now,  * '  If  thou  hast 
faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed," — you  know  the  rest. 

Some  reader  may  think  that  the  church  of  which  I  am 
rector  seems  all  these  years  to  have  been  lost  sight  of.  It 
was  not,  but  is  not  often  referred  to,  because  the  regular 
ministrations  were  carried  on,  for  I  had  two  hundred 
and  fifty-nine  communicants,  to  whom  I  ministered,  and 
a  congregation  of  some  five  hundred  souls.  We  raised  in 
the  parish  during  the  year  some  four  thousand  dollars  for 
parish  expenses  and  Church  purposes.  I  baptized  twenty- 
three,  presented  for  confirmation  forty  persons,  so  there 
was  no  neglect  of  that  work  ;  but  there  is  nothing  of  gen- 
eral interest  in  the  usual  clerical  life  which  needs  to  be 
recorded. 

After  giving  up  my  house  in  Ashley  Street  for  the  use 
of  the  school  for  twelve  years,  I  now  rented  it  out,  and 


School  Opens  in  the  Arsenal.  369 

the  house  I  had  bought  I  deeded  to  the  vestry,  in  trust 
for  the  Carohne  Wilkinson  Home,  a  refuge  for  indigent 
ladies  which  is  still  in  existence,  and  has  been  a  sweet 
refuge  for  many  in  these  seventeen  years.     From  1867  to 
1880  one  hundred  and  thirty-eight  of  my  boys  had  been 
confirmed,  of  whom  eleven  had  been  ordained  to  the  sacred 
ministry,  and  one  of  my  graduates  is  Vice- Chancellor  of 
the  University  of  the  South.     I  find  in  the  closing  para- 
graphs of  the  book  which  was  written  up  to  the  occupa- 
tion of  the  arsenal,  * '  I  know  not  what  is  before  us,  in  the 
unwritten  future  ;    God's  eye  alone  can  penetrate  that 
darkness.     We  propose,  by  God's  grace,  to  try  to  do  our 
duty  faithfully.     We  shall  endeavor  to  give  our  boys  the 
best  education  in  our  power,  and  shall  try  to  bring  them 
up  as  loyal  citizens  of  the  government  under  the  flag  of 
which  they  live.     Ours  is  not  a  political  nor  a  partisan 
school,   but  an  educational  institution  governed  by  the 
laws  of  religion  and  morality.      We  give  our  boys  the 
training  of  Christian  gentlemen,  brought  up  in  the  fear 
and  admonition  of  the  lyOrd,  and  neither  political  party 
nor  religious  sect  need  fear  the  result.     We  have  so  far 
had  over  two  thousand  boys  in  our  charge,  and  I  have 
sent  sixty-three  to  college.     Has  this  been  God's  work  ? 
We  ask  the  prayers  of  the  faithful  that  God  will  continue 
to  bless  us,   and  that  in  all  our  cares,   necessities  and 
anxieties,  and  disappointments,  we  may  keep  a  single  eye 
to  His  glory,  and  the  welfare  of  our  fellowmen." 

I  must  now  show  what  use  I  have  made  of  the  property 
committed  to  my  care.  When  October  i,  1880,  had  come, 
the  usual  stir  began,  and  every  train  and  steamer  brought 
the  new  and  old  boys  to  the  Institute.  The  General  Con- 
vention of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  w^as  about  to 
meet  in  New  York,  and  I  was  a  deputy  to  it  from  the  Dio- 
cese of  South  Carolina,  so  I  received  a  few  of  the  incoming 
boys,  but  had  to  leave  the  organization  of  the  school  to  the 
24 


2i7o  Led07il 

principal,  Mr.  John  Gadsden.  The  school  year  closed 
with  a  debt  of  ten  thousand  five  hundred  dollars,  which 
had  been  increased  by  some  fifteen  hundred  dollars  for 
furniture  and  repairs,  and  when  I  reached  New  York, 
knowing  the  large  gathering  of  boys  which  was  taking 
place  at  home,  and  the  daily  expense  of  it  all,  with  this 
large  debt  before  me,  my  heart  was  anxious,  but  not 
despairing.  The  year  of  the  meeting  of  the  General  Con- 
vention is  a  very  bad  year  to  collect  money  for  private 
charities.  The  cost  of  the  Convention  is  so  great,  the 
Missions  of  the  Church  in  the  organized  channels  have 
the  field,  and  the  presence  of  Missionary  Bishops  who, 
from  their  ofiicial  station,  have  entree  everywhere,  and 
reach  those  whom  a  simple  presbyter  cannot,  add  greatly 
to  the  difficulties  in  the  way.  I  approached  an  old  and 
true  friend,  Mr.  K.  R.  Mudge,  of  Boston,  and  told  him  my 
needs.  I  never  can  forget  the  blank  look  he  gave  me,  and 
the  ominous  shake  of  the  head,  as  he  said,  "  You  never 
can  carry  on  that  work  ;  it  is  too  much  for  an}^  man." 

I  told  him  the  Government  had  given  me  the  oppor- 
tunity to  do  a  good  work  for  the  country  and  the  Church, 
and  I  felt  bound,  as  fast  as  I  could,  to  develop  it  to  its 
utmost  capacity  ;  that  I  did  not  believe  I  would  be  in  the 
position  I  then  was,  had  it  not  been  the  will  of  God  for  me 
to  hold  it,  and  I  would  work  and  pray,  and  wait  and  trust, 
as  I  had  been  doing  all  these  j^ears  ;  that  now  the  work 
had  been  brought  prominently  before  the  public,  and  those 
extraordinary  events  which  marked  the  earlier  3^ears  did 
not  now  so  often  occur,  but  God  seemed  to  purpose  that 
the  ordinary  agencies  should  work.  It  is  like  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Christian  faith  ;  at  first  miracles  were 
common,  but  as  years  went  on  the  Church  was  left  to 
grow  by  natural  processes. 

Mr.  Mudge  seemed  to  think  it  hopeless,  and  was  not 
reassuring.     Indeed,  were  I  to  put  in  print  all  of  my  ex- 


School  Opens  in  the  Arsenal,  371 

perience,  the  days  and  nights  of  anxious  suspense,  the 
disappointments  and  rebuffs,  the  mortifications  and  trials 
which  every  year  of  the  life  of  this  institute  has  entailed 
upon  me,  there  is  no  reader  of  these  pages  who  would  not 
feel  as  intensely  as  I  do,  that  I  can  account  for  my  per- 
severance only  by  the  indwelling  presence  and  power  of 
the  Spirit  of  God,  who  gave  me  the  work  to  do  and  has 
not  suffered  me  to  withdraw  my  hand,  even  though  it 
has  cost,  and  still  costs,  an  amount  of  self-abnegation  of 
which,  unaided  by  Divine  grace,  I  am  utterly  incapable. 
I  now  called  on  another  friend,  Mr.  Robert  Lenox  Ken- 
nedy, and  told  him  my  needs.  He  at  once  drew  his  check 
for  five  hundred  dollars,  and  gave  it  to  me.  He  told  me 
to  cheer  up  and  keep  on,  for  if  I  was  doing  God's  work, 
of  which  he  had  no  doubt,  the  ways  and  means  would 
come  ;  and  come  they  did,  I  scarcely  know  how. 

Having  mentioned  Mr.  Mudge's  name,  I  relate  an  inci- 
dent of  1866,  when  I  first  went  to  Boston  and  was  his 
guest.  As  we  walked  upstairs  from  the  dining-room, 
there  was  hanging  in  the  hall  a  life-size  portrait  of  a 
handsome  young  officer  in  the  United  States  uniform. 
'*  This,"  Mr.  Mudge  said,  "  is  the  portrait  of  my  son, 
who  laid  down  his  life  for  his  country." 

We  all  stood  for  a  few  moments  in  silence  before  the 
picture,  when  I  said  :  *'  Mr.  Mudge,  what  an  illustration 
this  is  of  the  triumph  of  the  Christian  rehgion.  Here  is 
the  likeness  of  your  dead  boy,  killed  in  fighting  against 
those  I  represent.  Here  am  I,  an  ex-officer  of  that  op- 
posing army,  in  the  presence  of  that  picture,  a  welcome 
guest  of  his  father  and  mother  and  sisters."  Mr.  Mudge 
put  out  both  his  hands  and  with  much  emotion  said,  "And 
none  more  welcome  ;  he  gave  his  life  for  what  he  thought 
was  right;  you  risked  3^ours  for  what  you  thought  to  be 
right ;  you  were  each  as  conscientious  the  one  as  the  other. 
The  God  of  Battles  settled  it  as  He  saw  fit,  but  that  does 


372  Led  On  ! 


not  convict  you  of  wrong,  nor  does  it  prove  him  right. 
You  have  accepted  the  decision  in  the  spirit  of  a  Christian 
patriot,  and  my  son  would  rejoice  to  know  that  we  have 
welcomed  you  to  our  home  and  to  our  hearts. "  *    * 

Mr.  S.  G.  Wyman  had  given  me  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion to  the  Mr.  Robert  Lenox  Kennedy  mentioned  above  ; 
he  was  a  prominent  Presbyterian  who  from  time  to  time 
had  given  me  a  little  help.  One  winter  he  was  visiting 
the  South  with  his  wife.  She  was  taken  sick  in  Savan- 
nah, and  he  hastened  towards  home,  but  she  was  so  ill 
that  they  had  to  stop  in  Charleston,  and  one  Sunday 
morning  Mr.  Kennedy  wrote  for  me  to  come  to  him  at 
the  Charleston  Hotel.  There  I  found  his  wife  desperately 
ill  with  diphtheria,  and  Mr.  Kennedy  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 
I  immediately  summoned  Dr.  T.  L-  Ogier,  the  most  dis- 
tinguished physician  of  that  day  in  Charleston,  and  I 
hunted  the  town  for  a  nurse.  Between  the  services  of  the 
day  I  stayed  with  Mr.  Kennedy  and  remained  all  night 
and  all  Monday.  On  Tuesdaj^,  Mrs.  Kennedy  died,  and 
I  closed  her  eyes.  Of  course  this  made  Mr.  Kennedy  a 
warm  friend  and  a  generous  helper  until  he  died. 

I  was  in  New  York  in  the  Spring  of  1881,  and  one  even- 
ing I  went  with  a  very  heavy  heart  to  visit  my  friend, 
Mrs.  Samuel  G.  Wyman  of  Baltimore,  who  was  then  in 
New  York.  She  had  always  taken  a  lively  interest  in  the 
work.  She  said  to  me,  "  There  is  to  be  a  meeting  at 
Doctor  Barker's  of  the  friends  of  Mrs.  Buford,  who  is 
engaged  in  a  great  work  among  the  negroes  in  Virginia  ; 
I  wish  you  to  go  there. ' '  It  was  useless  for  me  to  remon- 
strate and  urge  that  I  did  not  know  the  people,  nor  had  I 

*  Death  has  since  severed  Mr.  Mudge  and  myself  as  friends. 
But  has  it  ?  I  remember  him  with  love  and  gratitude,  and  has  he 
forgotten  where  he  is  that  he  knew,  and  loved,  and  helped  me 
here  ?  Will  we  not  meet  again  and  talk  it  all  over  in  the  land 
beyond?    I  believe  it. 


School  Opens  in  the  Arsenal.  373 

been  invited.     * '  Nevertheless,  go, ' '  she  insisted ;  "  I  feel 
that  good  will  come  of  it. " 

With  great  reluctance  I  went,  feeling,  as  all  my  readers 
may  imagine,  very  much  out  of  place.  I  was,  however, 
greeted  by  host  and  hostess  with  a  very  courteous  wel- 
come. They  both  knew  of  me,  and  there  I  was  introduced 
by  Mr.  F.  Winston  to  two  gentlemen  whom  I  had  long 
wished  to  know,  but  never  before  had  been  brought  in 
contact  with,  Mr.  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  and  Mr.  R.  Fulton 
Cutting.  We  had  some  pleasant  conversation,  and  from 
then  until  1896  they  have  been  anually  large  contributors. 
Had  I  not  gone,  I  do  not  know  a  time  or  place  when  and 
where  I  could  have  met  either  of  them,  for  all  our  subse- 
quent interviews  have  come  through  our  past  acqaintance, 
and  not  by  an  accidental  meeting.  I  find  strength  in  be- 
lieving that  we  are  led  by  an  unseen  hand. 

Friends  in  New  York  that  year  gave  me  $4698  ;  in 
Boston,  $3580  ;  and  a  few  friends  in  Philadelphia,  Balti- 
more, Hartford,  Providence,  Newport,  Ellicott  City, 
Md.,  Albany,  Brookline,  Brooklyn,  added  their  aid  ;  and 
altogether,  I  collected  $10,532.41,  and  friends  in  England 
sent  me  $4,716.76.  I  collected  in  Charleston  and  South 
Carolina,  $12,207.86— a  total  of  $27,457.03.  The  cost  of 
the  year  was  $20,535.57;  I  liad  to  meet  a  debt  of  $12,000 
—a  total  of  $32,535.57,  and  I  received  $27,457.03;  leaving 
a  deficit  of  $4978.54  to  carry  over  to  the  next  year. 
Although  the  burden  still  was  very  heavy,  to  have  paid 
off  $7000,  and  still  carry  on  the  work,  proved  to  me  that 
I  was  not  forsaken  by  the  gracious  Providence  which  had 
so  long  provided  for  me. 


CHAPTER  XL 

IMPORTANT   ADDITIONS  TO   OUR   CURRICUI.UM 

Death  amongst  my  teachers — /  am.  enabled  to  build  a  gym- 
nasium— /  77iake  afi  important  addition  to  the  curriculum 
in  the  shape  of  linear  drawing  for  machine  shops — The 
powder  magazine  is  flooded  for  a  reason — Typewriting 
and  stenography  added  to  our  course — The  beginning  of 
an  endowment. 


JUST  after  the  close  of  the  last  term,  Miss  Emma 
Rhett,  who  for  nearly  fourteen  years  had  served  this 
institution  as  one  of  the  teachers  with  a  zeal  and  devotion 
beyond  her  strength,  died  on  the  15  th  of  August.  Mr. 
Wm.  Benjamin  Roper,  one  of  our  pupils  who  had  gradu- 
ated from  Union  College,  Schenectady,  and  had  been  our 
assistant  in  the  classical  department,  sickened  and  died  on 
the  27th  of  Jul}^  These  teachers  were  much  beloved  and 
deeply  mourned.  Nine  of  those  who  have  been  teachers 
here  have  passed  to  their  final  account,  and  the  principal 
was  the  only  one  left,  in  1881,  of  those  who  were  first  en- 
gaged on  December  9,  1867.  OvXy  one  death  has  so  far 
occurred  at  the  Home  in  all  these  eighteen  years.  The 
scarlet-fever  prevailed  during  the  year,  and  was  in  every 
street  around  these  grounds,  and  though  one  boy,  who 
had  just  come  in,  was  taken  sick  with  the  fever,  it  did  not 
spread,  and  not  another  case  occurred  ;  so  graciously  has 

374 


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Important  Additions  to  ou7^  CiLrricuhmi.      375 

God  taken  care  of  us.  During  the  year  I  had  man}^  loads 
of  sand  brought  in  to  fill  up  the  low  places,  and  the  whole 
square  has  been  thoroughly  drained  with  subsoil  tile 
draining. 

Mr.  James  T.  Swift,  of  New  York,  one  day  in  going 
over  the  premises,  asked  why  we  had  no  gymnasium,  since 
we  had  a  building  suited  for  it  ?  I  told  him  we  found  it 
so  hard  to  provide  for  necessaries,  that  I  had  not  felt 
authorized  to  use  any  money  given  for  other  purposes. 
He  kindly  told  me  to  fit  up  the  gymnasium,  and  to  send 
the  bill  to  him.  He  subsequently  added  to  the  gym- 
nasium. 

One  day  in  1881,  I  chanced  to  be  in  a  machine-shop  of 
Messrs.  Smith  &  Valk,  when,  observing  that  one  of  the 
youths  seemed  to  be  doing  clumsy  work,  I  asked  if  he 
could  draw  the  piece  of  machinery  he  was  making.  Find- 
ing that  he  could  not,  and  learning  after  careful  inquiry 
that  this  was  the  case  in  all  of  the  machine-shops,  I  in- 
vited all  the  leading  mechanics  to  my  house  to  supper,  and 
from  them  learned  that  there  was  no  teacher  of  linear 
drawing  in  the  city.  Failing  to  get  a  teacher  at  home,  I 
went  to  Boston  in  February  where  Mr.  Mudge  took  me  to 
his  house,  and  the  next  day  gave  me  a  fifteen  mile  sleigh- 
ride,  the  first  and  last  of  my  life.  When  we  reached  home 
I  told  him  it  was  magnificent,  but  I  had  not  come  to  enjoy 
myself,  but  on  business,  and  he  gave  me  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction to  Mr.  Rogers,  the  President  of  the  School  of 
H  Technology.  This,  with  letters  from  Mr.  A.  A.  Lawrence 
and  Mr.  R.  C.  Winthrop,  secured  the  president's  attention, 
and  he  sent  for  Mr.  C.  S.  Gooding,  a  young  man  whom 
he  highly  recommended.  I  told  him  that  while  I  knew 
nothing  at  all  about  linear  drawing,  I  had  discovered  a 
great  need,  and  had  boys  whom  I  wished  to  be  taught 
linear  drawing  ;  if  he  felt  himself  man  enough  to  under- 
take it,  I  wanted  him  to  do  so.     He  said  he  would  take 


3  7^  Led  On  / 


the  situation  for  twelve  hundred  dollars.  This  seemed  a 
good  deal  of  money,  but  as  he  was  a  specialist,  said  to  be 
an  expert,  and  I  knew  to  make  my  place  a  success  I  must 
have  a  good  man,  I  engaged  him.  Mr.  Wm.  P.  Clyde 
gave  me  a  ticket  for  him,  and  I  authorized  him  to  pur- 
chase instrmnents.  I  went  out  among  my  friends  in 
Boston,  and  they  gave  me  money  enough  to  cover  the 
first  year's  expenses,  for  they  seemed  pleased  at  this  prac- 
tical development  of  my  educational  scheme.  Mr.  Good- 
ing staj^ed  two  years,  married,  and  returned  North,  but  I 
have  kept  up  this  branch  of  instruction,  always  having  a 
good  teacher,  for  the  past  sixteen  years.  At  first  it  was 
not  understood,  for  it  was  a  new  thing  in  the  South,  and 
I  had  to  take  a  firm  stand  and  insist  upon  its  being  taught. 
It  has  since  grown  to  large  proportions,  is  a  popular 
branch,  and  has  turned  out  a  large  number  of  young  men 
who,  with  no  further  education  than  that  received  in  this 
school,  have  obtained  places  as  draughtsmen  and  en- 
gineers. There  were  two  boys  who  were  as  good  as  boys 
are  ever  made,  but  they  were  very  slow  at  books.  I  took 
these  two  to  Mr.  Gooding,  and  begged  him  to  try  and 
make  something  of  them.  In  about  a  month  he  told  me 
those  boys  had  a  wonderful  talent  in  this  line,  and  as  they 
improved,  their  capacity  for  mathematics  seemed  to  de- 
velop, and  when  they  graduated  one  became  the  head 
draughtsman  in  the  shop  in  which  the  idea  came  to  me, 
and  the  other  went  to  the  Baldwin  Locomotive  Works, 
where  he  is  occupjdng  a  responsible  position.  If  I  had 
not  started  that  branch  of  education  they  would  probably 
be  to-day  in  some  country  store,  poor  and  unknown. 
These  are  illustrations  only,  for  several  hundred  have 
been  taught  mechanical  drawing.  One  is  now  with  the 
Cramps  in  Philadelphia,  and  I  find  in  my  report  to  the 
Trustees  of  that  year,  these  words  : 

' '  The  needs  of  this  fast-developing  republic,  on  this 


Importa^it  Additions  to  our  Ctirriculum,     2>17 

vast  continent,  with  its  shops  and  manufactories,  demand 
an  immense  corps  of  draughtsmen.  Thus  a  new  avenue 
is  opened  to  our  boys  to  earn  a  lucrative  and  an  honorable 
support.  I  shall  save  some  from  seeking  situations  in 
small  country  stores,  or  following  laborers  in  our  cotton 
and  rice  fields,  or  flocking  to  every  opening  in  the  city 
where  a  vacancy  occurs,  to  receive  a  small  compensation. 
These  places  must  be  filled,  but  it  is  sad  to  see  much  good 
material  comparatively  wasted  in  such  limited  spheres, 
sadder  to  know  how  many  are  pining  in  enforced  idleness, 
so  that  every  additional  means  of  earning  a  livelihood  is 
a  benefaction." 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  the  boys  were  permitted  to  go 
in  swimming  in  the  river.  Two  of  these  came  near  drown- 
ing ;  so  that  it  is  needless  to  say  this  was  the  last  swim 
my  scholars  had  in  the  river.  I  at  once  converted  the 
powder-magazine  into  two  large  swimming  pools.  The 
water  I  brought  into  the  ponds  from  the  city  artesian 
well,  and  thus  I  have  carried  out  General  Sherman's  sug- 
gestion to  get  as  far  from  the  military  associations  of  the 
place  as  possible.  I  knew  not  how  to  do  so  more  effectu- 
ally than  to  turn  water  into  a  powder  magazine.  It  will 
be  noticed  that  my  friends  in  England  continue  to  re- 
member us.  They  sent  some  four  thousand  seven  hun- 
dred dollars  this  year  to  help  at  a  time  of  very  pressing 
need.  But  still  we  closed  the  twelve  months  with  a  debt 
of  five  thousand  dollars. 

As  I  was  going  backwards  and  forwards  to  the  North, 
and  coming  in  contact  with  many  minds,  I  endeavored  to 
keep  my  eyes  open  to  the  march  of  events  and  to  fit  my- 
self for  greater  usefulness  to  my  fellow-citizens,  and  per- 
ceiving that  stenography  was  becoming  fast  a  factor  in 
modern  life,  I  determined  to  introduce  this  into  my 
school.  I  obtained  the  services  of  a  young  lady,  through 
the   Cooper   Institute,    and  brought  her  to  Charleston, 


3  78  Led  On  I 


where  I  tried  for  three  years  to  incorporate  the  study  into 
my  curriculum.  But  the  boys  were  so  overloaded  with 
work  that  I  found  it  impracticable.  They  would  have 
had  to  give  up  studies  which  the}^  could  not  do  without,  if 
I  pressed  this  in.  I  did  induce  some  young  ladies  of  my 
congregation  to  take  lessons.  One  of  these  became  a  pro- 
ficient and  then  a  teacher,  and  has  found  it  a  source  of 
income.  At  that  time,  save  in  the  daily  press,  there 
were  no  stenographers  in  Charleston,  but  I  foresaw  the 
time  would  come  when  they  would  become  a  necessity  in 
all  our  prominent  offices. 

One  young  lady,  singularly  bright,  began  to  take  les- 
sons from  Miss  lyce,  the  young  lady  who  had  first  perfected 
herself,  and  her  uncle,  General  James  Conner,  was  quite 
put  out  at  this  useless  waste  of  time.  He  actually  remon- 
strated with  her  father,  then  a  bank  president,  who  re- 
plied that  as  she  had  the  time,  and  it  was  her  pleasure  to 
so  employ  it,  he  had  no  objection.  In  time  her^uncle  and 
father  both  died,  the  father  leaving  a  very  insufl&cient 
estate  to  support  his  daughter  and  her  mother.  This 
daughter  applied  herself,  became  an  adept,  in  time  became 
as  she  still  is,  the  stenographer  of  the  United  States  District 
Court,  and  is  comfortabl}^  supporting  herself.  She  would 
scarcely  have  thought  of  it  if  I  had  not  brought  Miss 
Scott  here. 

The  year  1882  brought  to  me  a  sore  affliction.  My 
wife,  who  had  been  so  feeble  and  sick  for  so  many  years, 
was  stricken  with  paralysis,  from  which  she  never  recov- 
ered, but  bore  her  incessant  sufferings  with  that  same 
gentle  submission  which  characterized  a  life  of  thirty 
years'  of  ill-health.  She  lingered  thus  for  nine  long  years  ; 
it  was  another  burden  our  dear  Lord  required  us  both  to 
bear.  Why,  we  know  not  now  ;  we  shall  know  hereafter. 
The  only  time  she  ever  broke  down  would  be  on  Sunday 
morning,  when  I  would  go  to  her  room  to  have  a  short 


Important  Additions  to  Ou7-  CurrimlMm.     379 

service  for  her,  before  I  went  to  church.  Then  at  times, 
it  would  seem  so  hard,  for  she  loved  the  church,  but  for 
fourteen  years  she  had  never  been  able  to  go  to  it.  This 
was  not  a  refreshing  preparation  with  which  to  go  to  my 
public  duties,  but  God  gave  me  grace  to  hide  deep  down 
with  Him  the  sorrow  that  was  there,  that  the  public  eye 
never  saw.     I  hope  it  drew  us  both  nearer  to  Him. 

Some  years  ago,  long  before  there  were  any  railroads 
going  to  Asheville,  in  casting  about  for  some  place  where 
life  would  be  more  bearable  to  my  wife,  we  had  chanced 
to  think  of  Asheville,  North  Carolina,  and  there  she 
seemed  to  be  more  at  her  ease.  Though  boarding-houses 
were  uncomfortable,  property  was  cheap;  so  I  borrowed 
some  money  and  bought  some  land  with  a  house  on  it. 
My  second  son,  Charles,  was  in  business,  and  devoted  the 
half  of  his  salary  to  help  me  pay  for  it.  My  dear  friend, 
Fred.  A.  White,  from  London,  for  many  years  every 
January  and  July  sent  me  a  munificent  personal  gift  which 
I  put  on  this  debt,  and  so  I  got  a  summer  home  for  this 
dear  wife,  where  I  took  her  every  year  till  the  year  she 
died.  It  was  a  great  struggle  to  pay  for  it,  but  I  look 
back  thankfully  that  I  did  my  best  to  give  her  comfort. 

My  purchase  turned  out  a  good  investment,  for  with 
the  arrival  of  railroads,  property  enhanced  in  value,  and 
by  renting  out  the  house  in  winter,  and  throwing  in  every 
dollar  I  could  spare,  I  have  improved  the  property  and  it 
is  improving  itself,  and  in  time  I  trust  my  children  may 
have  some  little  estate  from  that  which  was  started  only 
to  give  their  mother  a  home  where  she  could  have  some 

rest. 

This  year,  at  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  W.  Bayard  Cutting, 
I  began  to  try  to  gather  an  endowment  for  the  Institute, 
and  Httle  by  little  I  have  accumulated  a  beginning.  I 
have  an  abundance  of  land  on  these  premises,  and  have 
with  the  consent  of  the  trustees  so  far  erected  seven  houses, 


380  Led  On  !  . 

on  the  streets  surrounding  the  grounds.  All  of  these  are 
rented  and  yield  a  little  income.  I  have  room  for  about 
fourteen,  and  I  hope  to  use  the  rents  to  build  on,  until  the 
ground  is  all  taken  up.* 

I  have  prayed  daily  three  times  a  day,  at  my  stated 
prayers,  and  always  at  the  celebration  of  the  Holy  Com- 
munion, that  God  would  put  it  in  the  heart  of  someone, 
or  in  the  hearts  of  many,  to  give  or  to  bequeath  to  the 
academy  a  sum  sufficient  to  insure  its  permanence,  and 
to  relieve  me  from  this  annual  torture  of  nervous  anxiety. 
I  have  known  very  many  men  and  women  who  in  life 
were  very  generous  to  me,  but  none  of  them  have  be- 
queathed anything  to  the  work.  I  do  not  doubt  my 
prayers  are  heard,  and  even  if  it  be  not  the  will  of  God 
that  I  may  live  to  see  it,  yet  the  promise  stands,  ' '  Ask 
and  ye  shall  receive  !  " 

Some  two  months  before  my  wife  was  stricken  with 
paralysis,  I  had  been  very  much  run  down  from  over- 
strained nerves,  and  the  doctor  advised  a  trip  to  Florida.  I 
went  to  Palatka,  not  knowing  who  was  there,  and  met  at 
the  hotel  my  old  friend,  Mr.  John  H.  Shoenberger,  who 
told  me  there  was  an  old  lady  in  the  house,  Mrs.  Robert  T. 
Stuart,  whom  he  would  like  me  to  know.  He  sent  her 
his  card,  with  mine,  and  we  were  invited  to  her  parlor. 
She  became  interested  in  my  work,  gave  me  one  thou- 
sand dollars  for  that  year  and  repeated  the  gift  several 
other  years.  Afterwards  she  increased  her  donation  to 
two  thousand  dollars  annually,  until  she  died.     She  was 

*  One  of  the  houses  was  built  by  funds  supplied  by  Mrs.  Bd. 
King  and  children,  of  Newport,  and  is  a  memorial  of  her  son 
Alexander.  Another  home  was  erected  by  Miss  Mary  LeRoy 
King,  in  memoriam  of  her  brother,  I^eRoy  King,  a  noble  man,  cut 
down  in  the  flower  of  his  manhood.  The  decrees  of  Divine 
Providence  are  an  inexplicable  mystery.  He  had  so  much  to  live 
for,  and  filled  so  well  his  life.  They  received  their  bereavement 
with  Christian  submission. 


Important  Additions  to  Our  Curriculum.     381 

a  Presbyterian,  and  I  said  to  her  one  day,  at  her  palatial 
home  in  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York,  that  I  hoped  she  knew 
I  was  an  Episcopal  minister,  "  I  do,"  she  said,  "  but 
what  of  that.  I  have  been  down  there  in  the  South,  and 
I  know  the  need  of  the  work,  and  how  well  you  are  doing 
it.  You  are  doing  the  work  of  Christ,  and  I  am  glad  to 
help  you.  I  am  only  sorry  for  all  who  can  and  yet  will 
not  help  such  a  work. ' '  It  was  a  dreadful  loss  when  she 
died  a  few  years  ago.  And  so  one  after  another  has 
gone  and  no  new  friends  come.  Still  God  does  not  pass 
away.  He  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day  and  forever, 
and  there  I  rest. 

Mr.  James  H.  La  Roche  and  John  E.  Bold,  two  gradu- 
ates of  this  school,  were  ordained  to  the  diaconate  this 
year.     We  closed  with  a  debt  of  near  six  thousand  dollars. 


CHAPTER  XI,I 

THK  PORTER   ACADEMY 

^^  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  Thee"" — Honor  among  boys — 
Improvements  in  the  building —General  Lee' s  most  dan- 
gerous antago7iist — A  risky  bridge — /  see  McQuee7i  at 
his  home — Death  of  a  wise  a7id  good  physician — A  strange 
dream —  The  Institute  becomes  the  Porter  Academy — 
Friends  in  need. 


IT  will  be  seen  how  this  school  had  been  developing  and 
extending  ;  ever  growing  larger,  needing  greater 
efforts,  requiring  more  money,  and  yet  by  the  goodness 
of  God,  meeting  its  obligations,  or  tiding  them  over  until 
they  were  met.  I  often  ask  myself,  "  What  am  I  that 
God  should  so  honor  me  ?  "  for  the  whole  responsibility 
had  been  concentrated  in  my  hands,  and  my  poor  head 
had  to  do  all  the  planning  and  devising.  My  one  stay  is 
the  promise,  "  My  Grace  is  sufficient  for  thee."  There 
will  be  no  greater  burden  than  He  will  give  strength  to 
bear.  I  cannot  help  it,  but  if  I  see  what  ought  to  be  done 
I  feel  that  I  ought  to  try  to  do  it.  I  am  aware  that  there 
must  be  kindred  spirits  who  will  say  that  man  must  and 
shall  be  helped  to  do  his  Master's  work. 

During  the  year  1883,  I  was  forced  to  expel  two  youths 
who  were  incapable  of  living  up  to  the  high  standard  of 

382 


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The  Porter  Academy.  ^i^^i 

honor  and  self-control  which  has  been  established  in  the 
Institute.  One  incident  will  illustrate  my  system  of  in- 
ternal government.  I  have  a  rule  that  every  boy  is  on 
his  honor  not  to  leave  the  premises,  day  or  night,  without 
permission.  One  night  I  was  called  out  to  see  a  sick 
parishioner,  and  did  not  get  back  until  half-past  one. 
Seeing  a  bright  light  in  one  of  the  alcoves,  I  feared  some 
boy  was  sick,  and  therefore  went  to  learn  what  was  the 
matter.  I  was  astounded  to  find  one  of  the  students  was 
not  in  the  dormitory,  and  on  inquiring,  found  a  second 
boy  absent.  Both  of  these  were  over  twenty-one  years 
old.  I  gave  orders  that  they  should  report  to  me  in  the 
morning. 

Both  came  to  me  next  day  and  one  of  them  said,  ' '  Doctor 
Porter,  had  you  not  found  us  out,  we  intended  to  tell  you 
we  had  gone  out,  where  we  were,  and  how  we  came  to  do 
it  ;  we  left  the  light  on  purpose,  thinking  it  would  at- 
tract attention." 

I  heard  their  statement  quietly,  and  answered,  ' '  Young 
gentlemen,  you  know  the  rule  of  this  institution.  You 
have  forfeited  your  word,  and  violated  your  honor. 
There  is  nothing  left  for  me  to  do,  but  to  express  my 
sincere  regrets,  and  to  tell  you  both,  to ' ' 

But  before  I  could  get  out  the  fatal  word,  they  both  ex- 
claimed :  *'  Doctor  Porter,  on  the  honor  of  gentlemen,  it 
is  the  first  time,  and  it  happened  just  as  we  have  told  you. 
We  did  what  we  have  said  and  nothing  else.  We  felt  we 
had  betrayed  ourselves,  and  feel  miserable,  and  throw 
ourselves  on  your  merc3^" 

*'  But,"  I  said,  "  when  a  man  violates  his  plighted 
word,  how  can  he  be  again  trusted  ?  " 

The  elder  of  the  two,  threw  himself  on  his  knees, 
clasped  me  round  my  waist,  and  burst  into  tears,  saying, 
"  Doctor  Porter,  I  have  nothing  on  earth  to  depend  upon 
but  my  character.     Do  not  brand  me  for  this.     Forgive 


384  Led  On  I 

me,  and  take  my  word.  This  incident  shall  be  a  lesson 
to  me  through  life,  and  you  shall  never  have  reason  to  re- 
gret your  clemency." 

I  accepted  their  pledge,  and  retained  them,  and  they 
gave  me  no  cause  to  regret  my  decision. 

In  the  year  of  1883,  I  erected  a  large  four-story  building 
for  a  dining-room,  and  dormitories  ;  this  had  become  a 
necessity.  We  needed  a  chapel,  so  I  removed  the  roof 
from  a  large  artillery  shed,  raised  the  walls  four  feet,  and 
put  a  Gothic  roof  upon  it  ;  I  also  inserted  some  stained- 
glass  windows.  The  chancel  window  I  placed  in  me- 
moriam  of  my  dear  boy  at  whose  grave  the  idea  of  the  in- 
stitution rose.  In  September  I  went  to  Bar  Harbor,  the 
White  Mountains,  and  to  Newport.  At  one  of  the  hotels 
in  the  White  Mountains  I  met  General  George  B.McClel- 
lan.  I  told  him  that  General  Lee  had  regarded  him  as 
his  most  dangerous  antagonist,  and  had  said  of  him, 
that  he  had  done  what  he  believed  no  other  man  in  the 
United  States  could  have  done,  gathered  the  debris  of 
Pope's  shattered  armies,  and  with  raw  recruits  organized 
his  force  in  eleven  days,  met  General  Lee's  victorious 
army  at  Antietam,  fought,  and  checked  him,  with  a  suc- 
cess resulting  in  a  drawn  battle.  The  General  was  much 
pleased,  and  remarked  that  General  Robert  K.  Lee  was 
the  most  knightly  man  who  had  ever  drawn  sword  in  battle. 
In  December  I  went  to  Boston  ;  thence,  at  the  invita- 
tion of  Bishop  Harris,  the  Bishop  of  Michigan,  I  went 
to  Detroit,  in  the  month  of  February.  The  change  of  cli- 
mate at  that  season  made  me  very  sick,  and  I  lost  my  voice 
entirely.  Returning  by  way  of  Cincinnati,  I  encountered 
that  great  flood  memorable  in  history.  I  had  waited  at 
Toledo  for  two  days,  and  then  took  an  experimental  train 
with  a  half-dozen  other  men,  and  remember  coming  to  a 
submerged  town — I  think  it  was  Lima — where  the  water 
was  up  to  the  window-sills  of  the  church,  and  the  people 


The  Porter  Academy.  385 

could  only  get  out  of  their  houses  by  boats.  We  dragged 
along  until  we  came  within  three  hundred  yards  of  a  long 
covered  bridge.  The  track  was  under  water,  and  the  fire 
in  the  engine  was  nearly  reached  when  we  stopped.  The 
water  was  rushing  past  us,  so  that  we  could  neither 
advance  nor  recede.  The  report  was  that  the  bridge  was 
some  inches  out  of  plumb,  and  was  expected  to  go  over 
every  instant.  At  last  the  conductor  determined  to  try  to 
get  over  the  bridge,  and  we  began  to  crawl  along,  and 
when  the  bridge  was  reached,  the  few  men  on  board 
crowded  on  the  rear  platform  to  save  themselves  if  the 
bridge  went  over.  Through  this  covered  vault  we  pulled  ; 
it  could  not  have  been  for  over  five  minutes,  and  though 
we  went  as  cautiously  as  possible,  it  seemed  an  hour.  I  do 
not  think  I  ever  spent  so  long  a  time  in  so  few  moments  in 
my  life.  When  we  cleared  the  bridge,  and  reached  higher 
land  on  the  other  side,  we  felt  we  had  escaped  from  the  jaws 
of  death,  as  the  bridge  went  over  in  a  very  few  moments 
afterwards.  I  went  to  Florida,  as  far  as  Palatka,  in  April. 
The  fourth  Sunday  in  May,  I  preached  at  Grace  Church, 
New  York,  at  the  invitation  of  the  Rev.  H.  C.  Potter, 
D.D.,  then  rector  ;  and  at  Christ  Church,  New  York,  at  the 
invitation  of  Rev.  Hugh  Miller  Thompson,  rector,  and 
afterwards  at  Christ  Church,  Hartford.  Having  been  in- 
vited by  Rev.  Dr.  Clinton  Locke,  to  go  to  Chicago,  I  there 
visited  my  friend,  Lieutenant  John  A.  McQueen,  at  his 
home  in  Elgin.  It  was  our  first  meeting  for  eighteen 
years.  We  had  parted  in  Raleigh,  North  Carolina,  where 
I  left  him  with  General  Jos.  B.  Johnston's  pass  to  go  back 
to  his  army.  It  was  a  very  happy  meeting.  I  returned 
to  Hartford  to  meet  the  Washington  Light  Infantry  of 
Charleston,  who  had  gone  there  as  the  guests  of  some  of 
the  military  companies,  and  then  returned  home.  I  think 
I  can  say  I  have  been  in  journeyings  often,  and  sometimes 

in  peril,  to  prosecute  my  work.     The  Duke  of  Newcastle, 
25 


386  Led  On  ! 

England,  visited  Charleston,  and  called  on  me,  and  left  a 
check  for  the  school  of  $300. 

In  the  year  1884,  as  Chairman  of  a  committee  in  our 
Diocesan  Convention,  I  presented  a  preamble  and  resolu- 
tions expressing  our  sympathy  with  the  movement  in  the 
general  Church,  in  the  organization  of  sisterhoods  and 
deaconesses.  It  was  warmly  supported  by  some  and  as 
warmly  opposed  by  others.  After  much  discussion,  a 
milk  and  water  resolution  was  passed,  which  meant 
nothing,  and  has  resulted  in  nothing.  This  staid, 
ultra-conservative  old  diocese  was  not  ready  then,  but 
the  world  has  moved  since  then,  and  were  I  a  younger 
man  I  would  press  the  subject,  for  I  think  the  day  has 
come. 

During  the  winter  of  1885,  I  lost  a  warm  friend,  Mr. 
Charles  T.  Lowndes.  To  the  day  of  his  death  he  was  a 
supporter  of  the  institution  and  of  myself  It  was  he 
who  sent  me  to  Europe  in  1876,  and  thereby  my  life  was 
prolonged.  Mr.  Lowndes  understood  that  my  work  was 
hard,  and  I  needed  sympathy  and  aid,  and  he  gave  me 
both.  Dr.  Wm.  T.  Wragg,  who  had  been  my  physician 
from  my  boj^hood,  and  of  this  institution  from  its  founda- 
tion, five  daj^s  before  he  took  to  his  bed  told  me  that  he 
knew  his  hours  were  numbered,  his  work  was  done,  and 
he  added  that  I  was  the  first  person  to  whom  he  had 
mentioned  his  condition. 

"  I  wish  you  to  remember,"  he  added,  "  that  I  told  you 
I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed,  and  I  am  now  read}^  and 
willing  to  go.  I  have  no  regrets  that  the  end  of  the 
journey  is  in  view."  We  were  seated  in  the  office  of  the 
hospital  after  his  visit  to  the  wards,  and  he  seemed  so  calm 
and  composed  that  no  one  would  have  supposed  he  was 
speaking  of  his  own  case.  Suddenly  a  paroxysm  of  pain 
seized  him  while  we  were  talking,  and  when  it  passed,  he 
remarked;  "  This  is  it,  angina  pectoris,  and  there  is  no 


The  Porter  Academy.  387 

cure."  It  was  his  last  visit  to  the  hospital.  His  last 
words  to  me  from  his  sick  bed  were :  * '  No  one  shall  ever 
speak  against  you  in  my  presence."  He  was  a  true 
friend,  and  his  death  left  a  blank  in  my  life. 

Elias  D.  H.  Ball,  a  grandson  of  Bishop  Odenheimer,  of 
New  Jersey,  had  the  same  year  died  of  heart  disease. 
This  was  the  second  death  in  the  institution  in  seventeen 
years,  and  Doctor  Wragg  remarked  when  standing  by  his 
corpse,  ' '  He  was  as  perfect  a  specimen  of  a  gentlemen  as 
I  have  ever  known."  The  foUov/ing  incident  was  told 
me  by  his  grandmother,  Mrs.  Odenheimer. 

Just  before  he  came  to  me  he  dreamed  he  found  himself 
in  a  great  throng  with  others  in  the  presence  of  a  high 
seat,  veiled  from  sight,  but  in  which  they  understood  God 
was  seated.  Bach  one  was  to  pass  singly  before  that 
throne,  and  to  receive  whatsoever  was  appointed  to  be 
borne  for  God's  sake,  and  to  accept  it,  if  willing.  One 
who  preceded  him  was  offered  ' '  consumption  ' '  and  it  was 
refused.  To  the  next,  "  heart  disease,"  and  it  was 
refused.  He  determined  to  accept  whatever  was  offered 
to  him,  and  as  he  in  his  turn  passed,  he  received  a  paper 
containing  the  words:  "  Be  good  and  faithful,  true,  and 
kind,  and  just  ;  be  brave  and  benevolent,  and  you  shall 
enter  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven."  His  life  was  an  applica- 
tion of  this  dream.  He  lived  in  the  faith  and  fear  of  God, 
and  died  in  the  Communion  of  the  Church. 

Mr.  Henry  E.  Pellew,  of  New  York,  presented  me  this 
year  with  166  volumes  of  the  Latin  Classics,  handsomely 
bound,  which  since  have  found  their  place  in  the  Hoffman 
Library.  There  were  226  boys  in  the  institution  this  year, 
and  yet  I  refused  with  much  pain  over  one  hundred  appli- 
cations to  be  received  as  beneficiaries.  Six  boys  went  to 
Hobart  College  this  year,  during  which  I  carried  108  total 
beneficiaries.  I  received  from  South  Carolina,  that  year, 
$14,527.63  ;  from  other  States,  $12,756.46,  and  from  Eng- 


388  Led  On  ! 

land,  $340.  I  began  the  year  with  a  debt  of  $8435,  and 
closed  with  a  deficit  of  $6450. 

Two  of  the  trustees,  Mr.  W.  C.  Courtney  and  Mr.  John 
Hanckel,  died  within  a  month  of  each  other,  during  the 
year  1885  and  1886.  They  were  lifelong  friends,  and  are 
greatly  missed.  Mr.  John  Gadsden,  the  Principal  of  the 
Institution  for  eighteen  j^ears,  accepted  another  position, 
and  my  son,  Rev.  Theo.  A.  Porter,  came  to  my  assistance. 
The  Board  of  Trustees,  during  my  absence,  on  the  28th 
of  January,  1886,  changed  the  name  of  the  institution  from 
the  Holy  Communion  Church  Institute,  to  the  Porter 
Academy,  and  took  measures  to  have  the  same  legalized 
by  act  of  the  Legislature.  This  is  the  resolution  that  was 
passed  at  the  meeting  of  the  Trustees.  The  Hon.  Henry 
Buist  offered  the  following  preamble  and  resolutions, 
which  were  unanimously  adopted  : 

' '  The  trustees  of  the  Holy  Communion  Church  Insti- 
tute, of  Charleston,  think  that  the  time  has  arrived  for 
the  change  of  its  corporate  name  to  that  of  the  Porter 
Academy.  They  deem  this  a  just  tribute  to  a  great 
Christian  philanthropist,  who  from  its  origin,  and  amid 
all  its  trials  and  struggles,  has  borne  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  day.  His  name  should  in  the  coming  years  be  in- 
dissolubl}^  connected  with  it,  for  he  has  devoted  to  it  the 
best  3^ears  of  a  long  and  honorable  life  ;  in  its  darkest  days 
his  faith  never  wavered,  his  heroic  courage  never  failed. 

"  Resolved,  therefore,  that  the  Institute  hereafter  be 
known  as  the  Porter  Academy,  and  that  application  be 
presented  to  the  next  General  Assembly  for  change  of  its 
corporate  name." 

Of  course  this  procedure  was  gratifying  to  me,  and  being 
the  act  of  the  unanimous  board,  save  myself,  there  was 
nothing  for  me  to  do.  It  was  a  mistake  at  the  first  in 
attaching  the  name  of  a  parish  church  to  the  work,  and 
had  I  conceived  that  it  would  have  grown  to  the  extent  it 


The  Porter  Academy.  389 

has,  it  would  not  have  been  done.  If  regarded  only  as  an 
Episcopal  school,  the  prospect  of  general  aid  and  patron- 
age is  diminished.  Hence  it  is  necessary  to  put  the  work 
on  a  broader  basis,  and  while  it  will  ever,  as  far  as  I  can 
control  the  future,  be  under  the  influence  of  Episcopal 
ministration,  it  is  now  dissevered  from  all  official  connec- 
tion therewith,  and  stands  upon  the  broad  platform  of  a 
school,  the  aim  of  which  is  to  afford  the  best  facilities  for 
training  mind  and  heart  and  body  for  the  duties  and  obli- 
gations and  privileges  of  life  here  and  hereafter.  At  the 
same  meeting  of  the  trustees,  Mr.  R.  Fulton  Cutting,  of 
New  York,  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Board,  which 
he  accepted,  and  is  still  a  trustee.  Mr.  Cutting  was  a 
generous  friend  for  many  years  and  has  continued  to  be 
so.  I  was  very  glad  at  this  latter  action  of  the  Board. 
Surely  it  is  an  evidence  of  a  genuine  reunion  of  the  coun- 
try, when  a  Southern  board  voluntarily  elects  a  Northern 
friend  to  be  a  trustee  of  a  Southern  school,  and  he  gener- 
ously accepts  the  place.* 

While  speaking  of  the  trustees,  it  is  proper  to  sa}^  here, 
that  but  for  the  kindness  of  Trustee  E.  Horry  Frost,  f  I 
would  often  have  been  at  a  standstill.  Frequently,  at  the 
close  of  a  term,  he  has  endorsed  my  private  note  for  two 
thousand  dollars  to  meet  our  obligations.  He  endorsed 
not  as  a  trustee  but  as  a  friend,  feeling  confident  that  if 
I  lived  I  would  pay,  but  if  I  died,  he  would  have  to 
make  the  deficit  good.  They  were  always  paid,  but  it 
does  not  make  me  the  less  grateful  to  him.  I  began  this 
year  with  a  debt  of  $6456.  I  supplied  students  at  college 
with  clothes  to  the  amount  of  $509,  and  we  had  been  visited 
by  a  cyclone,  in  August,  1885,  which  damaged  the  build- 
ings to  the  amount  of  $1500,  so  that  it  was  a  hard,  hard 

■*  The  Board,  on  April  5,  1897,  unanimously  elected  Mr.  Charles 
Frederick  Hoflfman,  Jr.,  of  New  York,  a  member  of  the  Board,  and 
he,  too,  has  generously  accepted  the  position. 

t  Mr.  E.  Horry  Frost  died  in  the  summer  of  1897. 


390 


Led  On  ! 


year,  but  I  came  to  the  end  with  a  debt  of  but  $2116.  Can 
anyone  doubt  that  God's  watchful  and  loving  care  has 
been  over  it  all  ? 

The  change  in  head  masters  caused  me  to  throw  myself 
more  entirely  into  the  administration,  and  from  that  year 
we  began  to  rise  in  efficiency.  There  were  several 
changes,  but  in  1890,  I  made  Mr.  Charles  J.  Colcock  head 
master.  He  was  a  graduate  of  the  school,  and  afterwards 
of  Union  College,  Schenectady,  and  from  his  appointment 
our  progress  has  been  steadily  on  and  upward. 


., 


, 


CHAPTKR  XI.II 

THK   CHARIvESTON   EARTHQUAK!^ 

I  introduce  a  deparimeiit  of  carpentering  into  the  Institute — 
The  Charleston  earthquake — Strange  and  terrible  scenes 
—  The  ludicrous  side  of  the  situation. 


DURING  the  year  1887,  my  steadfast  friend,  Miss  Ida 
Mason,  gave  me  a  sufficient  sum  of  money  to  pur- 
chase a  Harris- Corliss  engine,  twenty-five  horse-power, 
and  a  boiler  of  forty-horse  power,  and  to  equip  a  first-class 
carpenter  machine  shop.  Since  then  all  the  boys  of  the 
first,  second,  and  third  classes,  have  worked  one  hour  a 
day  in  the  carpenter  shop,  and  some  of  them  have  learned 
to  make  really  excellent  furniture.  It  is  worthy  of  note, 
that  boys  who  stand  highest  in  their  classes  generally 
stand  highest  in  this  department,  which  supplements  that 
of  mechanical  drawing.  This  gift  of  Miss  Mason  has 
been  of  inestimable  value,  for  the  engine  not  only  propels 
the  machinery  of  the  machine  shop,  but  it  also  operates 
the  steam  laundry,  and  pumps  the  water  from  my  artesian 
well,  and  supplies  the  dormitories  with  water  and  steam 
heat  in  winter.  A  swimming  pool,  which  is  thirty  feet 
long,  twenty  wide,  and  ten  feet  deep,  receives  the  water 
and  steam  from  the  boiler  in  cold  weather,  thus  heating 
the  room,  and  enabling  the  boys  to  swim  all  winter. 

39^ 


392  Led  On  ! 

On  the  31st  of  August,  1886,  I  was  seated  in  my  parlor 
in  Asheville,  North  Carolina,  about  a  quarter  to  ten  at 
night,  when  I  heard  strange  noises  in  my  wife's  chamber 
above.  They  continued  so  long,  I  went  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  and  called  to  her  nurse,  for,  as  I  have  stated,  my 
wife  had  been  a  confirmed  invalid  for  many  j^ears.  I  asked 
the  nurse  why  she  w^as  moving  the  furniture  about  in  my 
wife's  chamber.  She  replied:  *'We  thought  ^-ou  were 
moving  the  drawing-room  furniture,  for  we  heard  the 
same  noise  ;  I  thought  it  strange."  Next  I  heard  the 
wheels  of  many  vehicles,  apparently  driving  up  the  moun- 
tain very  fast.  Next  the  sound  of  many  trains  of  cars, 
and  immediately  after  one  corner  of  the  house  seemed  to 
be  lifted  up,  and  came  down  with  a  thud. 

I  then  realized  that  it  was  an  earthquake  ;  and  as  my 
summer  cottage  is  built  on  the  side  of  a  mountain,  I  did 
not  know  whether  it  was  over  a  cave,  and  something  had 
not  given  away.  I  rushed  upstairs  to  take  Mrs.  Porter 
out,  and  directed  the  rest  of  the  family  to  get  ready  to 
leave  the  house,  but  as  the  disturbance  subsided,  we  all 
remained  quiet.  After  awhile  I  went  over  to  some  neigh- 
bors, and  found  them  all  quite  wild  with  excitement.  The 
earthquake  had  been  felt  down  in  the  valley  much  more 
distinctly  than  on  the  mountain,  and  the  vibration  of  the 
turret  on  the  City  Hall  had  caused  the  bell  to  toll.  We 
imagined  it  was  local,  and  as  it  seemed  to  be  over,  soon 
settled  down. 

Next  day  about  noon,  a  telegram  was  received  from 
Columbia,  by  someone,  saying  :  "  We  are  all  safe,  but 
poor  Charleston,"  and  nothing  more.  We  all  began  at 
once  to  telegraph  to  Charleston,  but  received  no  response. 

It  was  not  until  eleven  o'clock  at  night  that  we  began  to 
get  news.  A  half  sentence,  and  then  a  break.  After  three 
or  four  hours  incessant  telegraphing,  we  patched  together 
sufficient  to  show  that  Charleston  had  been  destroyed  by 


The  Charleston  Earthquake.  393 

an  earthquake.  The  Rev.  Theodore  A.  Porter  had  gone 
down  on  the  31st,  and  we  could  hear  nothing  from  him. 
My  aged  mother,  an  aunt,  and  a  niece  were  in  my  house 
in  Charleston.  The  Church,  the  school,  and  the  little 
property  I  owned  was  there,  and  no  tidings  could  be  had. 
My  other  son,  Charles,  returned  home  with  me  from  the 
telegraph  office  at  four  o'clock  a.m.,  when  we  deter- 
mined to  take  the  train  next  morning,  and  get  as  near  to 
Charleston  as  we  could.  But  in  taking  the  horse  out  of 
the  buggy  he  put  his  foot  down  on  mine,  and  in  a  few 
seconds  I  could  scarcely  move.  It  was  impossible  for 
me  to  leave  next  morning  as  my  foot  was  terribly  swollen. 
Charles,  however,  by  constant  telegraphing,  at  last  learned 
that  the  members  of  my  family  were  uninjured,  but  the 
city  was  in  ruins. 

On  the  following  Friday,  all  bandaged  and  bundled  up, 
I  determined  to  go  to  Charleston,  as  I  felt  I  must  be 
needed;  and  as  we  neared  Summervdlle,  we  met  a  sad 
sight,  for  everyone  had  left  their  houses,  and  were  camp- 
ing in  their  yards.  We  learned  that  the  train  on  which 
my  son  and  a  large  excursion  party  had  been  on  Friday 
night,  near  Summerville,  had  a  fearful  experience.  The 
cars  had  been  swayed  from  side  to  side,  throwing  people 
from  their  seats,  and  had  suddenly  been  stopped,  with  the 
rails  in  front  and  rear  twisted  into  the  letter  S.  Summer- 
ville, indeed,  seemed  to  be  the  centre  of  the  disturbance. 
We  reached  Charleston  about  ten  at  night,  and  it  was 
pitiable  to  see  the  distracted  people  all  in  the  streets,  afraid 
to  enter  their  houses.  I  hastened  with  my  son  Charles  to 
the  Academy,  and  such  a  sight  met  my  eyes.  Over  six 
hundred  men,  women,  and  children  were  camped  out  on 
the  grounds  where  there  was  every  conceivable  kind  of 
extemporized  tent.  Blankets  and  even  shawls  had  been 
stretched  over  poles,  and  sick  and  well,  men,  women,  and 
children  were  all  gathered  there.     I  found  my  aged  mother 


394  ^^^  ^^^ ' 

had  been  taken  out  of  bed,  carried  on  to  the  grounds 
and  laid  on  a  bed  over  which  the}'  had  rigged  up  some 
kind  of  shelter.  I  at  once  went  into  my  house,  which  is 
of  brick,  and  found  the  chimney-tops  gone;  but  saving 
some  cracks  here  and  there,  no  damage  sufficient  to  en- 
danger the  house  was  apparent.  It  was  the  month  of 
September,  when  it  is  not  safe  in  this  climate  to  sleep  in 
the  open  air,  and  I  insisted  in  moving  my  mother  back 
into  the  house.  There  had  been  a  constant  rumbling 
under  the  earth,  but  no  shock  since  Tuesday  night,  so  I 
had  beds  brought  into  the  lower  story,  and  had  just  made 
them  all  comfortable,  when  someone  exclaimed:  "  There 
it  is  again  !  "  and  an  awful  roaring,  rushing  sound  swept 
under  us.  The  large  brick  house  swayed  and  swung  like 
a  ship  at  sea,  and  as  it  settled  down,  every  brick  in  it 
seemed  to  grate  one  on  another.  This  shock  was  almost 
equal  to  the  first.  All  were  so  much  alarmed,  that  we 
beat  a  hasty  retreat  back  on  to  the  open  ground,  which 
rose  and  swelled  like  waves  at  sea.  As  soon  as  mother 
was  made  comfortable,  and  was  protected  as  far  as  she 
could  be  from  the  weather,  I  went  through  the  crowd; 
some  of  them  were  bearing  it  very  heroically,  others  were 
totally  unnerved.  I  found  an  aged  relative,  who  had  been 
an  invalid  since  she  was  fifteen,  among  the  refugees. 
Poor  old  lady,  her  spirit  took  its  flight  in  the  midst  of  it, 
and  she  was  at  rest.  I  found  cases  of  typhoid  fever,  and 
there  had  been  one  or  two  births  from  fright.  It  was  a 
heart-sickening  sight.  The  air  was  filled  with  many 
sounds.  The  negroes  were  terrified,  and  took  to  vocifer- 
ous praying,  loud  shouting,  and  weird  singing.  Sleep 
was  impossible.  All  night  the  rumbling  underneath  and 
the  quivering  of  the  earth  told  us  that  all  was  not  over. 
Indeed,  during  the  year  there  were  seventy-nine  shocks 
in  all  before  it  ceased. 

Karly  on  Saturday  I  received  a  cablegram  from  London, 


The  Charleston  Earthquake.  395 

from  my  friend,  Hon.  Fred.  A.  White,  which  said:  "  Are 
you  safe?  What  damage?"  I  repHed,  "Safe.  About 
$20,000,  as  far  as  I  can  now  estimate."  Immediately  I 
received  another  cable ;  it  ran :  * '  Brown  Bros,  will  send 
you  $3800."  I  devoted  Saturday  to  going  over  the  field. 
Not  a  house  had  escaped  ;  not  one  hundred  chimney-tops 
were  left  ;  many  houses  had  crumbled,  the  fronts  had  fal- 
len from  some,  the  sides  from  others.  St.  Michael's  Church 
seemed  a  hopeless  ruin  ;  it  eventually  cost  $40,000  to  re- 
pair it.  Grace  Church  was  in  the  same  plight.  Indeed 
all  the  churches  and  large  buildings  were  in  ruins.  The 
Church  of  the  Holy  Communion,  having  an  open  wood 
roof,  seemed  to  have  swayed  and  given  way,  with  less 
damage,  than  almost  any  of  the  large  brick  churches. 
Early  Sunday  morning,  I  received  a  telegram  from  Mr. 
J.  Pierrpont  Morgan  :  **  Intense  sympathy  ;  draw  on  me 
for  $5000." 

I  could  not  induce  anyone  to  go  into  the  church,  so  I 
gathered  the  crowd  on  the  green,  and  held  a  full  service, 
and  preached  an  ex  tempore  sermon  out  in  the  open  air, 
and  had  a  celebration  of  the  Holy  Communion.  It  was 
a  solemn  occasion  and  a  devout  congregation.  On  Satur- 
day night  I  was  exhausted,  for  I  had  not  slept  since 
Thursday  night,  and  I  threw  myself  on  the  floor  of  a 
small  wooden  house  which  was  on  my  grounds  and  tried 
to  sleep.  I  could  hear  a  whirling  sound,  and  ever  and 
again  a  violent  shock,  as  if  the  ground  beneath  me  had 
been  struck  with  a  tremendous  sledge-hammer,  which  was 
not  soothing  ;  but  added  to  this,  a  large  crowd  of  negroes 
had  assembled  just  outside  my  wall,  in  the  street,  and 
they  were  indulging  in  howls  and  yells,  screaming,  pray- 
ing, and  singing.  It  was  a  very  pandemonium.  I  could 
not  stand  it,  so  I  went  out  to  them.  I  soon  singled  out 
the  ringleader.  He  was  an  old  gray-headed  man,  and  was 
praying  at  the  top  of  his  stentorian  lungs,  and  informing 


39^  Led  On  ! 


the  Ivord  how  very  wicked  he  and  all  of  them  had  been, 
that  hell  was  open,  and  that  they  were  all  going  down 
into  its  burning  jaws.  I  let  him  go  on  until,  while  he  did 
not  mean  it,  he  was  bordering  on  profanity,  and  was  stir- 
ring the  crowd  round  him  to  frenzy. 

I  put  my  hand  gently  on  his  head,  and  said  :  "  My 
friend,  look  at  me  ;  you  know  who  I  am,  and  that  I  am  a 
preacher,  too.  I  believe  in  prayer,  but  you  can't  fool  the 
Lord.  If  you  have  been  doing  all  those  things  you  sa}-, 
He  knows  it  is  fright,  not  conversion,  that  is  bringing  out 
all  this  excitement.  Now  you  are  not  going  to  hell  just 
now  ;  the  earth  has  not  opened  and  it  is  not  going  to  open. 
The  most  religious  thing  you  can  do  now  is  to  keep  quiet 
and  go  to  sleep  and  let  everybody  else  do  the  same.  Just 
over  that  wall  is  a  lady  not  two  weeks  out  of  the  lunatic 
asylum,  and  you  have  nearly  made  her  wild  again,  and 
you  must  stop." 

He  remonstrated,  and  said  the  negroes  were  having 
meetings  all  over  the  city.  * '  It  must  stop, ' '  I  said ;  * '  Mr. 
Courtenay,  the  Mayor,  is  on  the  sea,  but  Mr.  W.  B.  Huger 
is  Mayor  pro  tem^  and  I  have  seen  him,  and  arranged  to 
have  all  this  noise  stopped  by  ten  o'clock.  It  is  now 
eleven.  Go  to  the  Citadel  Square  where  the  largest 
crowd  is,  and  you  will  find  it  all  quiet. ' ' 

He  went,  and  soon  came  back,  saying  it  was  so,  and  it 
should  be  stopped.  He  had  scarcely  gone,  when  a  negro 
woman  came  at  me  in  a  rage. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  ;  "just  like  you  buckra.  Here  we  is 
all  going  down  to  hell,  and  you  won't  let  us  even  say  a 
prayer  ! ' ' 

I  saw  a  row  was  imminent;  so  I  went  up  to  her,  and 
raising  a  small  cane  I  had  in  my  hand,  I  said  :  "  Look 
here,  I  never  struck  a  woman,  but  if  you  do  not  hush  up, 
this  instant,  I  will  wear  this  out  on  you." 

The  threat  took  efiect;  silence  followed  ;  but  I  had  not 


The  Charleston  Earthquake.  397 


gone  ten  feet,  when  she,  and  the  crowd  who  wanted  to 
pray,  broke  out  with  a  song.  "  Oh,  pretty  yaller  gal, 
can't  you  come  out  to-night."  I  turned  back,  and  told 
her,  not  that,  any  more  than  her  hymns  ;  silence  was 
what  I  had  come  for. 

The  old  man  came  back  by  this  time,  and  we  had  silence 
and  I  got  some  sleep.  The  Sunday-school  house  which 
had  such  a  history,  the  first  industrial  school  of  the  South, 
the  place  where  all  the  uniforms  of  the  soldiers  of  the  State 
for  some  time  were  made,  the  Confederate  States  Post 
Ofiice,  where  the  first  twelve  years  of  the  school  had  been 
held,  were  all  shaken  into  ruins.  The  Church,  School, 
Wilkinson  Home,  House  of  Rest,  The  Academy,  and 
my  own  private  property,  were  damaged  to  the  amount 
of  $21,000;  but  kind  friends  at  the  North,  and  in  Eng- 
land, enabled  me  to  restore  them.  My  gymnasium  was 
so  unsafe  I  had  to  take  it  down.  As  I  had  the  bricks, 
Mr.  Cornelius  Vanderbilt  gave  me  $1500  to  replace  it. 
The  earthquake  cost  the  city  six  millions  of  dollars  to  re- 
pair damages. 

The  great  generosity  of  the  whole  land  sent  some 
$900,000  to  help  us,  which  was  a  splendid  exhibition  of 
philanthropy.  The  North  forgot  there  had  been  a  war 
which  had  separated  us,  and  gave  us  freely,  as  if  we  were 
on  the  other  side  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line.  Our  people 
should  never  forget  this,  and  when  hungry  politicians  seek 
to  stir  up  strife,  they  should  answer:  "  Remember  the 
earthquake  ! ' '  Much  of  the  remaining  five  million  dol- 
lars was  borrowed,  and  added  to  other  causes,  has  helped 
to  keep  us  down  and  poor.  Ever  since  that,  six  millions 
to  Charleston  is  more  than  six  hundred  millions  to  New 
York. 

I  must  put  on  record  some  of  the  funny  doings  that  hap- 
pened during  the  earthquake.  It  is  told  of  a  young  man, 
that  he  had  been  visiting  a  young  woman  a  long  while, 


n 


98  Led  On  ! 


but  had  never  had  the  courage  to  come  to  the  point. 
They  were  upstairs  in  the  parlor  when  the  shock  came, 
and  as  the  house  was  on  the  battery,  with  the  bay  j  ust  in 
front  of  it,  and  was  much  exposed — for  everyone  supposed 
a  tidal-wave  would  accompany  the  earthquake — the  young 
man  rushed  to  the  front  window,  and  putting  his  arms 
out,  sure  enough,  he  thrust  them  to  the  shoulder  into 
water.  Running  back,  and  throwing  his  arms  round  the 
young  lady,  he  exclaimed:  "  Come,  O  my  darling,  let  us 
die  together. ' '  And  so  they  stood,  dying  together ;  but  the 
water  also  stood,  for  it  did  not  come  in  at  the  windows. 
After  awhile  the  mother  and  father  came  upstairs  and 
caught  the  pair  in  this  fond,  if  alarmed  embrace.  They 
wished  to  know  the  meaning  of  it,  and  the  wet  arms  were 
the  explanation.  The  young  man  was,  however,  in- 
formed, that  he  only  plunged  into  the  aquarium  which 
was  outside  the  window.  He  felt  bad,  but  it  did  the  busi- 
ness; and  they  have  not  died,  but  lived  together. 

It  was  an  awfully  hot,  still  night,  and  nearly  everyone 
was  in  the  bath-tub  at  the  time  of  the  first  shock.  This 
resulted  in  many  ludicrous  scenes.  One  young  man 
seized  his  gauze  undervest  and  put  it  on,  and  rushing 
out,  jumped  a  fence,  and  of  course  there  was  a  nail  that 
caught  the  garment  in  the  rear.  He  had  gotten  over,  but 
the  nail  was  on  the  other  side,  and  do  what  he  would,  he 
could  not  tear  the  garment.  There  he  hung  with  his  toes 
just  touching  the  ground,  when  a  party  of  young  ladies 
came  by,  and  not  recognizing  his  condition,  said:  *'  Mr. 

,  where,  oh  where  shall  we  go  ?  "  "  Go, ' '  he  answered ; 

"  for  Heaven's  sake,  go  anywhere,  but  don't  come  here." 

A  staid  old  gentleman  who  had  married  late  in  life  but 
had  two  young  children,  jumped  out  of  the  bath,  seized 
his  beaver  hat,  put  it  on  his  head,  caught  up  the  two  little 
ones,  and  rushed  out  into  the  street  with  one  in  each  arm. 
As  he  was  hurrying  along,  he  knew  not  whither,  someone 


The  Charleston  Earthquake. 


399 


met  him,  and  said ;  * '  Why,  Mr.  ,  do  you  know  you 

have  no  clothes  on,  save  your  beaver?  "  "  Oh  !  "  he 
cried,  and  dropping  both  children,  ran  off.  There  is  a 
ludicrous  side  to  almost  ever>^thing  in  life. 

This  was  the  31st  of  August;  but  I  worked  like  a  beaver 
all  September  to  get  everything  in  order,  and  promptly 
on  the  ist  of  October  opened  the  Academy.  It  was  the 
only  school  opened  in  town,  for  all  the  free  school  build- 
ings had  been  so  much  injured  that  it  was  impossible  to 
open  them;  so  I  placed  my  large  schoolhouse  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  Commissioners  of  the  Meminger  School  for 
girls,  and  they  occupied  it  for  over  a  month.  I  utilized 
other  buildings  for  my  own  until  the  girls  left,  much  to 
the  regret  of  the  boys,  very  naturally.  A  great  deal  has 
passed  from  memory,  but  I  wrote  a  full  account,  and  pub- 
lished it  in  the  Churchma7i  of  November,  1886. 


CHAPTER  XUII 

EOTHKN 
Travels  in  the  East 

DURING  the  summer  of  1888,  I  met  Hon.  M.  C.  But- 
ler, Senator  from  South  CaroHna,  at  the  Battery- 
Park  Hotel,  in  Asheville,  and  talking  over  the  school,  he 
remarked:  "  That  work,  sooner  or  later,  will  have  to  get 
an  endowment,  and  if  you  had  the  property  on  better 
terms,  I  think  people  would  be  willing  to  give  you  an  en- 
dowment. Come  to  Washington  next  term  and  see  what 
we  can  do."  At  Washington  I  went,  with  General  But- 
ler, to  see  the  President.  It  was  Mr.  Cleveland's  first 
term,  and  when  General  Butler  introduced  me,  I  told  the 
President  that  we  were  going  to  try  and  get  a  bill  through 
Congress  giving  to  the  trustees  the  title  of  the  arsenal,  in 
fee,  on  the  condition  that  it  be  always  used  for  educational 
purposes.  I  gave  Mr.  Cleveland  a  hasty  sketch  of  the 
origin  and  history  of  the  work,  and  how  I  had  the  ninety- 
nine  year  lease  of  the  property.  He  asked,  * '  Why  have 
you  come  to  me  ?  "  *  *  What  is  the  use, ' '  I  answered, 
"  of  our  taking  the  trouble  to  go  through  Congress,  if, 
after  passing  the  bill,  it  is  met  with  your  veto.  We  wish 
to  know,  first,  what  you  think  about  the  matter  ?  ' '  He 
laughed,  and  said:  *'  You  are  a  diplomatist."  "  No,"  I 
answered;  "  only  a  man  with  a  little  plain,  hard,  common 

400 


Eothen.  401 


sense. ' '  He  then  asked  me  to  tell  him  all  about  the  event, 
which  I  did.  I  gave  him  the  family  name  of  many  of  my 
boys,  and  he  said:  "  Do  you  tell  me  that  boys  bearing 
those  names  are  using  a  jack-plane  and  handsaw  ?  " 
*  *  Yes, ' '  I  answered.  ' '  Do  you  have  any  difficulty  in  mak- 
ing them  ?  "  "  None  whatever, ' '  I  said.  "  It  is  part  of 
my  curriculum  and  if  any  boy  is  socially  too  good  to  do 
this,  he  is  too  good  socially  to  stay  there  ;  but  I  have 
never  dismissed  any  boy  for  this  cause. ' ' 

The  President  was  very  much  interested  and  asked  a 
great  many  pertinent  questions;  at  last  he  was  satisfied, 
and  he  said :  *  *  Have  you  any  particular  friend  here  ?  "  I 
said,  **  Yes,  your  Assistant-Treasurer,  ex-Governor  Hugh 
Thompson,  is  a  very  great  friend  of  mine."  "  Well,"  he 
said,  *  *  you  tell  Thompson  to  keep  his  eye  on  this  bill,  and 
if  it  passes  to  come  and  tell  me  and  I  will  sign  it." 

In  due  time  the  bill  was  passed.  Governor  Thompson 
took  it  to  the  President,  who  not  only  signed  it  at  once, 
but  wrote  an  autograph  letter  to  General  Wade  Hamp- 
ton, and  wished  him  to  telegraph  me  that  he  had  signed 
my  bill  with  much  pleasure.  So  that  now  this  property 
is  held  in  fee  by  the  Board  of  Trustees,  and  the  only  con- 
dition is  that  it  be  used  for  educational  purposes.  It  is 
somewhat  of  a  white  elephant  without  an  endowment;  but 
I  have  the  hope  that  the  hard  struggle  of  my  life,  and  the 
marvellous  success  of  the  work,  will  touch  some  generous 
hearts,  and  cause  somebody  to  take  it  up,  and  by  their 
own  gifts,  and  those  of  their  friends,  place  its  future, 
humanly  speaking,  beyond  a  peradventure,  if  it  is  the  will 
of  God. 

On  the  12th  of  January,  1889,  I  went  to  New  York,  and 
delivered  an  address  to  the  Missionary  Association  of  the 
General  Theological  Seminary,  at  Calvary  Church,  New 
York.  I  had  been  invited  in  October  to  deliver  this  ad- 
dress. I  gave  up  much  time  to  put  my  best  thoughts  into 
26 


402  Led  On/ 

it,  and  read  it  to  Mr.  Julian  Mitchell,  a  distinguished 
lawyer  of  Charleston.  He  then  read  it  over  himself,  and 
when  he  sent  it  back  he  wrote  me  that  old  Southern  ex- 
slaveholder  as^he  was,  I  had  taught  him  things  he  did  not 
know.  He  regarded  my  lecture  as  a  most  valuable  contri- 
bution to  the  subject  of  the  colored  question.  It  is  a  long 
journey  from  Charleston  to  New  York,  and  costs  some 
money.     Of  course  I  supposed  I  was  to  deliver  the  address 

°  of  the  evening,  when  to  my  surprise,  I  found  that  three 
speakers  were  to  speak  on  general  missionary  subjects. 
At  the  end  of  the  evening,  when  everyone  was  tired,  I  was 
to  come  in  for  a  five  or  ten  minutes'  talk  on  a  subject  so 
great  as  the  Church's  relation  to  seven  millions  of  people, 
conditioned  as  are  the  negroes  in  the  United  States.  I 
frankly  confess  I  was  a  little  put  out.  When,  at  a  quarter 
to  ten  o'clock,  I  was  introduced,  I  very  deliberately  walked 

-  into  the  pulpit,  and  said:  ''  I  have  come  one  thousand 
miles  to  read  an  address  to  which  I  have  given  much 
thought  and  time  after  a  three  months'  invitation  to  de- 
liver it.  It  is  here,"  and  I  held  up  the  paper.  "  It  will 
take  all  of  an  hour  to  deliver  it,  for  I  cannot  relegate  so 
great  a  subject  to  a  few  minutes'  ofi"-hand  speech,  and  I 
must  either  decline  to  address  you  or  deliver  this. ' '  When 
intimations  were  given  to  go  on,  I  told  the  audience  that 
if  any  of  them  desired  to  leave,  they  had  better  do  so  at 
once  but  no  one  left  and  I  delivered  it.  It  was  published 
afterwards  in  three  issues  of  the  Churchma7i.  The  publi- 
cation brought  me  many  letters  of  commendation  and 
thanks  from  many  sections  of  the  country.  I  took  a  vio- 
lent cold  that  night  and  left  the  next  da}^  for  home.  I 
had  to  stop  at  Sumter  to  meet  the  Bishop  of  South  Caro- 
lina and  a  committee  of  clerg3^men  and  laymen — such 
men  as  the  present  Bishop  Ellison  Capers,  and  ex- 
Governor  Manning,  and  General  J.  B.  Kershaw,  to  formu- 
late a  report  to  be  submitted  to  the  Diocesan  Convention 


Eothen.  403 

on  this  same  negro  question.  It  was  a  cold,  rainy  night, 
and  I  had  to  remain  on  the  platform  at  Florence,  South 
Carolina,  four  hours,  not  under  shelter,  until  another 
train  came  along.  Of  course  my  cold  was  increased,  and 
when  I  reached  Charleston  I  had  to  go  to  bed  a  very 
sick  man.  I  was  confined  to  my  bed  for  nine  weeks  with 
a  severe  attack  of  bronchitis,  and  when  I  was  able  to  sit 
up  there  was  not  much  left  of  me.  Again  a  Divine  Provi- 
dence turned  my  sickness  into  a  great  blessing.  My  good 
friend,  Mrs.  Daniel  Le  Roy,  hearing  of  my  illness,  wrote 
me  a  letter  saying  that  she,  with  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Kdw. 
King,  and  the  Misses  Mason  had  heard  of  my  state  of 
health,  and  that  my  life  was  too  valuable  not  to  do  every- 
thing to  preserv^e  it.  They  had  made  up  a  purse,  and  she 
would  send  me  the  check,  provided  I  would  use  it,  and  go 
abroad  for  the  summer.  I  had  repeatedly  been  urged  by 
my  friends  in  England  to  visit  them,  but  my  wife's  health 
had  deterred  me.  Now,  she  insisted  on  my  going,  so  I 
accepted  the  kindness  of  my  friends,  and  determined  to 
go.  My  son  Charles  had  been  in  business  as  a  cotton 
buyer  for  some  years,  and  he  had  saved  up  some  of  his 
salary,  and  he  determined  to  go  with  me  to  take  care  of 
me.  So  we  sailed  on  the  17th  of  June  and  duly  arrived  at 
Liverpool,  this  making  the  fourth  time  I  have  crossed  the 
ocean.  We  travelled  through  England  and  Scotland,  and 
went  to  Paris;  thence  to  Italy,  through  Switzerland  and 
Germany,  up  the  Rhine,  and  on  to  Antwerp;  back  to 
Paris,  and  then  to  London.  Two  young  Charlestonians 
were  with  us,  Wm.  Gregg  Chisholm  and  E.  H.  Cain. 
Having  gone  over  all  this  ground  before,  I  was  of  some 
use  to  these  young  gentlemen.  We  were  about  to  return 
to  America,  when  Doctor  McKenzie,  who  had  attended 
me,  assured  me  that  although  I  was  better,  if  I  returned 
and  attended  the  General  Convention  which  was  to  meet 
in  October,  and  joined  in  a  debate,  especially  upon  this 


404  Led  On! 


negro  question  in  which  I  was  much  interested,  I  ran  the 
risk  of  throwing  myself  back  where  I  had  been  the  year 
before. 

So  I  wrote  to  Bishop  Howe  that  I  would  not  be  present, 
and  asked  him^o  supply  my  place.  My  friend,  Mr.  Fred. 
A.  White,  insisted  on  my  staying  with  him,  when  my  son 
had  left  me  and  returned  home.  There  I  determined  to 
wait  until  the  middle  of  the  month.  I  had  just  gone 
down  to  pass  a  few  days  with  my  friend  Mr.  Thomas 
Kinscote,  at  the  Trench,  near  Tunbridge  Wells,  in  Kent, 
forty  miles  from  London,  when  I  received  a  telegram 
from  Bishop  Wilkinson,  of  Truro,  from  Florence,  Italy, 
saying  he  had  been  ordered  to  Egypt  for  the  benefit  of 
his  health,  and  asking  me  to  come  and  go  with  him.  Mr. 
Kinscote  sent  this  telegram  to  Mr.  White,  who  telegraphed 
me  from  London  asking  whether  I  would  go  ?  If  so,  he 
would  paj^  all  my  expenses.  I  cabled  home  to  ask  what 
I  should  do.  My  wife  and  vestry  cabled:  "  Go."  So  on 
the  14th  of  October  I  joined  Bishop  Wilkinson  at  Florence. 
We  remained  there  a  few  days  and  went  over  to  Venice, 
where  we  took  ship  and  went  to  Brindisi,  and  from  thence 
to  Alexandria.  It  may  be  well  imagined  the  intense  in- 
terest of  that  visit  to  the  land  of  so  much  history.  We 
did  not  stay  long  at  Alexandria,  but  went  on  to  Cairo, 
where  we  remained  until  the  14th  of  December.  The 
Bishop's  health  was  very  bad.  He  was  in  a  distressingly 
nervous  condition,  broken  down  from  overwork  as  Vicar 
of  St.  Peter's,  Eaton  Square,  and  then  as  Bishop  of  Truro, 
where  he  took  up  the  task  left  by  his  predecessor,  who 
had  been  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbur}^ — the  sainted 
Bishop  Benson.  Bishop  Wilkinson  had  continued  the 
task  of  completing  the  first,  and  I  think  only  cathedral 
erected  since  the  Reformation  in  England,  and  a  magnifi- 
cent cathedral  it  is,  as  far  as  it  has  been  built.  It  cost  the 
Bishop  years  of  much  suffering,  and  nearly  his  life.     The 


Eothen.  405 

delta  ot  the  Nile  is  nearly  one  hundred  and  sixty-five 
miles  wide,  and  the  English  have  reclaimed  much  of  this 
fertile  land,  but  our  sea-island  planters,  who  plant  long 
staple  cotton,  have  to  regret  it,  for  Egyptian  cotton  is  a 
sore  menace  to  them.  At  Cairo,  the  fertile  land  of  Egypt 
narrows  down  to  about  nine  miles,  which  is  about  the 
average  width  to  the  first  cataract  where  the  Nile  runs 
between  two  ranges  of  hills,  covered  with  sand,  with  this 
nine  miles  of  alluvial  deposit  on  either  side.  There  is 
much  to  interest  one  in  Cairo,  the  old  cit}^  and  the  new. 
During  the  French  occupation,  they  built  a  miniature 
Paris  where  all  the  modern  hotels  are;  but  old  Cairo  re- 
mains. There  is  a  fine  carriage  drive  to  the  Pyramids 
nine  miles  ofi".  This  road  was  built  by  order  of  the  Sultan 
of  Turkey  for  the  Empress  Eugenie  of  France  to  get  there 
comfortably.  I  frequently  visited  these  great  and  wonder- 
ful works,  ascended  the  largest,  and  was  amused  when  I 
found  a  friend  who  put  a  United  States  flag  in  my  hand 
as  I  stood  on  the  summit  of  the  Pyramid,  took  a  snap-shot 
with  his  camera,  and  presented  me  with  my  picture.  So, 
though  an  ex- Confederate,  I  held,  and  held  cheerfully,  the 
United  States  flag,  and  waved  it  over  this  monument  of 
the  ages.  The  ascent  of  the  Pyramids  is  tiresome  ;  there 
are  very  long  steps,  from  stone  to  stone,  but  by  the  push- 
ing and  pulling  of  the  guides,  who  demand  Bakshish  at 
every  other  step,  one  gets  there  at  last.  When  I  came 
down,  I  went  into  the  Pyramids — a  very  senseless  under- 
taking. You  go  down  a  narrow  passage,  and  then  stoop- 
ing very  low,  you  are  pulled  and  pushed  by  a  set  of  fella- 
heens,  chanting  the  Koran,  and  each  with  a  lighted  tallow 
candle  in  his  hand.  At  length  you  reach  a  large  square 
room  as  dark  as  pitch,  only  lighted  by  these  candles,  and 
full  of  smoke  and  smells.  There  before  you  stands  a  large 
empty  porphyry  sarcophagus,  with  the  lid  laid  back,  and 
the  mummy  of  the  King  who  built  it  gone.     They  tried  to 


4o6  Led  On  I 


induce  me  to  go  up  into  the  Queen's  chamber,  but  I  was 
nearly  smothered,  and  demanded  to  get  out  of  the  place  in 
double-quick  time.  I  have  been  in  the  Pyramids,  but  I 
think  I  was  an  idiot  for  going  there.  The  Sphinx  inter- 
ested me  as  much  as  anything  I  saw  there.  That  patient, 
Wciiting,  expectant  look  upon  the  face,  I  can  never  forget — 
looking,  as  it  were,  for  someone  coming.  I  think  it  is  the 
best  type  of  the  Jews  looking  for  the  coming  Messiah  that 
I  can  think  of.  The  mummy  of  Rameses  II.,  said  to 
be  the  father  of  the  princess  who  rescued  Moses,  is  in  the 
Boulak  Museum.  It  is  of  intense  interest,  for  the  ex- 
pression of  the  face  gives  you  an  idea  of  the  character  of 
the  man,  and  one  can  well  imagine  that  such  a  man  would 
have  been  the  persecutor  of  the  Jews. 

Finding  that  the  Bishop  with  his  two  daughters  and  a 
lady  friend  who  had  joined  the  party  in  England  were 
going  to  stay  some  time  in  Cairo,  and  I  wished  to  make 
a  trip  to  Jerusalem,  and  finding  that  it  would  not  cost 
much,  and  could  be  done  in  twelve  daj^s,  with  the  Bishop's 
ready  consent,  I  left  the  party,  and  went  by  rail  over  the 
land  of  Goshen,  to  Ismalia,  on  the  Suez  Canal,  and  through 
the  Canal  to  Port  Said.  There  I  took  steamer  to  Joppa, 
and  after  a  night's  trip,  was  in  this  ancient  city  of  Joppa. 
I  had  really  gone  to  the  Holy  I^and.  It  seemed  a  dream, 
for  it  had  never  entered  my  mind  that  I  would  have  had 
such  a  privilege. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

MODERN  JHRUSAIvKM   IN  HOI<Y  WEEK 

/  visit  the  Far  East — Palestine,  Egypt,  Damascus,  all  pass 
before  7ne — My  e^notions  at  Jerusalem  in  Holy  Week — I 
return  safe  home. 


MY  good  friend,  Mr.  John  Cook,  from  whom  I  pur- 
chased my  tourist  ticket,  and  from  whom  I  received 
many  acts  of  kindness  during  my  sojourn  in  Egypt,  has 
secured  for  me  a  dragoman  who  was  a  Coptic  Christian,  a 
native  of  Palestine.  He  took  charge  of  me  as  soon  as  1 
landed,  and  made  all  arrangements  for  me.  It  is  not  my 
purpose  to  lengthen  out  this  book  with  very  man}^  details; 
so  many  books  are  written  purposely  to  describe  the  Holy 
Land,  that  I  shall  confine  myself  to  merely  stating  where 
I  went,  and  my  general  impressions.  Of  course,  we  visited 
the  few  places  of  Biblical  interest  in  this  ancient  city  of 
Joppa,  the  traditional  site  of  the  house  of  Simon  the  tan- 
ner, and  the  location  where  it  is  said  Dorcas,  whom  St. 
Peter  restored  to  life,  lived.  A  small  mosque  stands  there 
now.  Of  course  I  thought  of  the  prophet  Jonah,  and  his 
flight  from  hence.  Somehow,  notwithstanding  the  learned 
critics  of  the  latter  part  of  the  nineteenth  century,  I  find 
I  cannot  help  believing  that  our  Lord  knew  what  He  was 
talking  about  when  He  referred  to  Jonah  as  a  type  of 

407 


4o8  Led  On  ! 


His  Resurrection,  and  that  the  prophet  did  have  the  un- 
usual experience  of  being  swallowed  by  a  big  fish.  When 
passing  through  its  narrow  streets,  I  realized  I  was  on  the 
spot,  if  not  surrounded  by  the  same  houses,  where  the  call- 
ing of  the  Gentiles  was  revealed  to  St.  Peter.  Roman 
history  and  the  time  of  the  Crusades,  and  the  diabolical 
massacre  of  its  garrison  by  Napoleon,  gave  interest  to  a 
place  in  its  present  condition  absolutely  uninteresting. 

My  dragoman  having  secured  a  seat  for  me  in  a  most 
uncomfortable  wagon,  we  started  for  Jerusalem.  Some 
Knglishmen  have  extensive  vineyards  and  orchards  of 
limes,  lemons,  and  oranges  on  the  outskirts,  through 
which  we  passed  into  the  Vale  of  Sharon.  The  soil,  in 
general  appearance,  reminded  me  of  the  sea  island  cotton- 
fields  on  Kdisto  Island,  near  my  home  in  South  Carolina; 
but  as  there  was  little  vegetation  save  an  abundance  of 
red  poppies,  I  wondered  if  these  were  the  Rose  of  Sharon. 
We  stopped  some  twenty  miles  from  Joppa,  and  passed  the 
night  at  Ramleh  on  our  left  ;  some  five  miles  off  from 
Ramleh  we  saw  Lydda.  The  next  day  we  left  Ramleh 
and  were  soon  in  the  hill  country  of  Judea.  There  is  a 
magnificent  macadamized  road  winding  through  these 
hills,  and  as  you  enter  and  look  up,  it  appears  like  an 
unbroken  mass  of  rock,  the  very  personification  of  desola- 
tion ;  but  as  you  travel  along,  you  see  these  hills  are  all 
detached,  and  stand  separate  in  mounds,  and  as  you 
ascend,  and  look  down  from  the  second  tier  of  hills,  you 
see  that  those  circular  hills  seem  to  be  terraced  from  bot- 
tom to  top  with  a  low  natural  wall,  having  a  yard  or  two 
of  earth  betw^een  the  front  wall  and  the  one  next  above, 
and  so  on  to  the  top  ;  and  this  seemed  to  be  the  nature  of 
each.  In  these  terraces  a  few  fig  and  olive  trees  were 
growing.  When  I  again  went  over  the  same  ground  in 
the  spring,  wheat  or  rye  or  barley  was  growing  there,  and 
the   desolation   had   passed   away.      After   riding  some 


Modern  yerusalem  m  Holy  Week.        409 

twenty  miles  we  came  in  sight  of  Jerusalem.  A  long  line 
of  modern  houses  outside  the  walls  obstructs  the  view  of 
the  city,  and  I  found  it  difficult  to  persuade  myself  that 
it  was  a  fact  that  I  was  looking  at  that  place  around  which 
so  much  history,  sacred  and  profane,  centres.  We  passed 
through  the  Jaffa  Gate,  with  camels,  and  donkeys,  and  a 
motle}^  throng  apparently  of  many  nations.  Jerusalem 
having  been  destroyed  some  eighteen  times,  of  course  the 
surface  is  not  the  same  as  was  trod  by  the  feet  of  our 
blessed  Lord;  but  the  locality  is  the  same,  and  notwith- 
standing the  dirty,  narrow  streets,  the  mixed  population, 
the  trading  and  traffic  of  the  everyday  life  of  its  present 
inhabitants,  I  felt  all  the  week  I  was  there  a  constant 
sense  of  awe  and  reverence,  as  we  went  from  place  to 
place,  traditional  scenes  in  our  blessed  Lord's  life.  The 
site  of  the  Temple,  now  occupied  by  the  Mosque  of  Omar, 
Mt.  Sion,  and  the  tomb  of  David,  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  the  pools  of  Bethesda  and  Siloam  made  very 
real  the  Bible  record.  I  strongly  felt  the  hill  outside  the 
Damascus  Gate,  first  pointed  out  by  Chinese  Gordon,  the 
English  martyr,  was  most  probably  the  hill  of  the  Cruci- 
fixion, but  the  learned  Bishop  of  Jerusalem  told  me,  that 
after  careful  study  of  the  whole  subject,  he  felt  satisfied 
the  Church  was  the  true  location.  He  must  be  a  very 
poor  Christian  who  is  not  moved  by  such  surroundings. 

Jerusalem  as  it  is,  is  a  disappointing  place,  for  the  filth 
and  odors  make  one  willing  to  shorten  one's  sta}^  This 
was  in  1890.  Since  then,  a  railroad  has  been  built  from 
Joppa.  I  am  glad  I  went  before  it  was  built,  for  it  seems 
to  me  almost  profane  to  ride  into  Jerusalem  in  a  Pullman 
car,  to  stop  at  a  station,  and  hear:  "  All  out  for  Emmaus." 
I  think  it  would  send  a  shudder  through  me,  but  we  soon 
get  used  to  everything.  I  went  to  all  the  traditional 
places  in  Jerusalem,  but  there  is  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and 
there  is  the  same  stony  path  over  the  mountain  to  Bethany 


4 1  o  Led  On  ! 

which  our  Lord  must  often  have  trod.  There  is  Geth- 
semane  and  the  Brook  Kidron.  The  valley  of  Jehosaphat 
and  of  Hinnom  no  change  of  time  has  effaced,  and  he 
must  be  slow  of  heart  whose  emotions  are  not  deeply 
stirred  when  ht  is  in  the  midst  of  such  surroundings. 

I  went  down  the  same  path  that  our  Lord  must  have 
travelled  over  when  He  went  down  to  Jericho,  a  descent 
of  over  two  thousand  feet  in  twenty  miles.  We  had  a 
guard,  an  Arab,  marvellously  gotten  up,  and  a  perfect 
arsenal  of  arms  which  he  had  not  the  slightest  occasion  to 
use. 

My  dragoman  and  I  lunched  at  an  inn,  and  soon  after 
entered  a  tortuous  ravine.  In  the  middle  of  it  the  drago- 
man made  the  cheerful  remark  that  this  had  been  the  most 
dangerous  spot  in  Palestine,  as  robber}^  and  murder  had 
frequently  taken  place  in  it.  Being  a  Christian,  he  asked 
me  if  I  remembered  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan,  for 
this  was  the  only  road  between  Jerusalem  and  Jericho, 
and  this  spot  must  have  suggested  it  to  our  Lord.  It  was 
very  wild  ;  I  am  glad  I  saw  it.  The  next  time  I  went 
over  that  road,  in  the  spring,  a  wide  straight  road  had 
been  cut  through  that  ravine,  and  a  macadamized  road 
runs  there  now  ;  it  is  possible  to  drive  over  this  mag- 
nificent road  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho  in  two  hours, 
such  is  the  march  of  modern  improvement,  but  at  the 
sacrifice  of  sentiment,  and  of  landmarks.  I  stopped  at 
New  Jericho,  and  visited  the  old  site  of  Jericho,  built  on 
one  of  these  mound-like  hills.  The  foundations  of  the 
wall  are  still  there,  and  a  valley  surrounds  the  site,  vSo  that 
the  march  of  the  Israelites  around  was  perfectly  practic- 
able. Elisha's  fountain  is  at  the  base,  and  the  water  flow- 
ing from  it,  makes  fertile  all  its  banks  as  it  meanders 
through  the  plain.  There  stand  bananas,  figs,  grapes, 
oranges,  oleanders  in  profusion,  while  all  else  is  sterile; 
but  where  the  water  is,  it  is  fertility  itself.     If  the  Jordan 


Modern  yerusalem  in  Holy  Week.        4 1 1 

were  dammed  up,  as  it  might  be,  and  the  valley  irrigated 
through  canals,  an  immense  population  could  be  supported 
on  the  products  of  that  valley.  I  saw  one  grapevine  whose 
stem  three  men  could  scarcely  encompass. 

On  our  way  down  we  passed  along  the  brook  Cherith, 
and  the  cave  of  Elijah,  where  he  was  miraculously  fed. 
We  rode  down  over  the  six-mile- wide  plain  to  the  Jordan 
and  the  Dead  Sea,  and  I  went  to  the  spot  where  the  Jordan 
enters  the  sea.  In  my  left  hand  I  took  water  from  the 
Jordan,  with  my  right  from  the  Dead  Sea.  The  one  was 
fresh,  the  other  was  so  intensely  salt  I  was  glad  to  get  rid 
of  it. 

Marvellous,  that  even  when  this  fresh  water  has  passed 
in  for  so  many  ages,  it  does  not  affect  the  salt  sea  one  foot 
from  the  point  of  entrance.  From  the  conformation  of  the 
land,  the  children  of  Israel  must  have  crossed  over  from  the 
land  of  Moab,  very  near  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan.  The 
place  where  twenty-four  thousand  perished  for  their  sin  is 
just  bej^ond,  and  the  mountains  of  Moab  rise  nearby  four 
thousand  feet  over  against  you.  In  going  down  to  the 
Jordan,  we  passed  several  flocks  of  goats  and  sheep  with 
their  shepherds.  Palestine  is  the  only  part  of  the  world 
I  ever  saw  sheep  and  goats  flock  together. 

On  our  return,  I  noticed  one  of  these  shepherds  carry- 
ing a  new-born  lamb  ver}^  tenderly  in  his  arms.  A  little 
while  after  I  observed  another  shepherd  dragging  two 
new-born  lambs  by  their  hind  legs  in  a  very  cruel  manner, 
and  I  remarked  on  it  to  the  dragoman,  who  very  inno- 
cently said  :  "  Oh  !  the  first  owned  that  flock;  this  last 
was  an  hireling."  It  was  all  very  suggestive.  On  my 
return  to  Jerusalem,  I  visited  Bethlehem,  and  the  re- 
puted cave  where  the  Saviour  was  born.  It  is  fitted  up 
as  a  chapel,  and  many  handsome  silver  lamps  hang  from 
the  ceiling,  the  gifts  of  kings,  and  emperors,  and  rich 
men  ;  and  there  is  an  altar  on  the  reputed  spot  of  the 


412  Led  On! 

Nativity,  and  a  silver  star,  with  the  legend  in  Latin  : 
"  Here  the  Saviour  was  born."  {Hie  de  Virgine  Maria 
Jesus  Christus  natus  est.)  It  might  have  been  superstition, 
but  the  impulse  was  irresistible  to  kneel  down  and  kiss 
the  spot.         ^ 

I  went  to  Hebron,  some  fifteen  miles  off  from  Jerusalem ; 
by  the  roadside  passed  Rachel's  tomb  as  I  went  to  visit 
the  cave  of  Machpelah,  where  we  know  Abraham,  Isaac, 
and  Jacob,  and  Sarah  and  I^eah  were  buried.  A  great 
mosque  now  covers  the  area.  I  went  all  round  it;  of 
course  could  not  get  in,  not  being  as  fortunate  as  the 
Prince  of  Wales  and  Dean  Stanley,  and  not  having  one 
thousand  soldiers  to  guard  me  against  the  inhabitants  of 
Hebron,  the  most  fanatical  people  in  Judea. 

I  visited  the  site  of  Gibeon  and  Mizpah,  where  Samuel 
lived  and  was  buried.  But  I  find  I  am  entering  too  much 
into  detail,  which  I  promised  not  to  do,  though  the  temp- 
tation is  very  great.  I  returned  from  the  various  trips 
around  Jerusalem,  and  after  twelve  days  returned  by  the 
Suez  Canal  and  went  back  to  Cairo.  I  found  on  my  re- 
turn that  Canon  Scott  Holland,  of  St.  Paul's,  I^ondon,  was 
to  join  the  party.  The  Holy  Land  is  no  place  for  a 
tourist  to  visit  who  is  not  thoroughly  acquainted  with  its 
history,  and  with  his  Bible,  as  it  offers  nothing  to  the 
sight-seer  but  desolate  limestone  hills. 

I  met  two  men  from  Chicago  who  seemed  to  be  dread- 
fully bored  and  pronounced  it  all  a  fraud.  I  tried  to  in- 
terest them,  but  found  I  was  casting  pearls  before  swine, 
and  suggested  that  the  fraud  was  not  in  Palestine  but  it 
was  in  such  men  visiting  it.  We  remained  in  Cairo 
until  the  14th  of  December,  when  the  whole  party,  con- 
jSisting  of  Bishop  Wilkinson,  his  two  daughters,  a  lady 
jfrom  London,  Canon  Holland,  and  m3^self  entered  a 
dahabiyeh,  which  is  a  long,  flat-bottom  boat,  with  a 
cabin  at  the  stern,  one  huge  mast  and  trisail.     To  have 


Modern  Jerusalem  in  Holy  Week.        413 

this  costs  a  little  fortune  per  month,  and  it  is  the  most 
wearisome  mode  of  locomotion,  though  charming  to  people 
who  have  plenty  of  money  to  throw  away,  and  any  quan- 
tity of  time  that  they  do  not  know  how  to  make  use  of. 
In  our  trip  we  once  made  twenty  miles  in  five  days.  The 
monotony  was  intense.  A  trip  by  rail,  or  better  still  by 
the  great  Cook  steamer  Ravieses  II. ,  gives  you  more  com- 
fort, and  more  opportunity  for  observation  by  far.  This 
is  not  the  right  thing  to  say,  but  I  would  not  take  the 
trip  up  the  Nile  in  a  dahabiyeh  again  with  my  expenses 
paid  three  times  over. 

We  did  not  reach  the  first  cataract  until  somewhere  in 
March.  Of  course  there  was  much  to  interest,  but  I  will 
not  allow  myself  to  go  over  what  has  been  so  often  said, 
and  better  than  I  can  say  it.  At  Luxor,  I  met  with  Mr. 
Clarence  Wadsworth,  a  young  man  from  New  York, 
travelling  in  a  dahabiyeh  with  a  tutor,  Rev.  Mr.  Craig, 
of  New  York.  Mr.  Wadsworth  told  me  he  was  going  to 
Mt.  Sinai,  and  through  the  Holy  Land  to  Damascus, 
Palmyra,  and  across  to  Antioch,  and  kindly  invited  me  to 
be  his  guest.  On  my  return  from  the  first  cataract  to 
Luxor,  I  bade  my  friends  of  the  Bishop's  party  good-bye, 
as  he  was  in  the  good  hands  of  Canon  Holland.  In  going 
up  the  Nile  I  had  not  been  very  long  on  the  boat  before 
I  had  complete  control  over  the  seventeen  black  hands 
from  Libya.  I  did  not  understand  them,  but  when  at  a 
loss,  the  dragoman  interpreted  for  me.  They  had  a  few 
words  of  English,  and  I  picked  up  a  few  of  their  words, 
and  by  degrees  I  could  communicate  with  them,  and  they 
soon  dubbed  me  Pasha.  I  could  make  them  do  anything 
I  wished.  The  Bishop  and  Canon  Holland  were  quite 
amused  at  the  relationship  so  soon  established,  and  asked 
how  I  had  managed  to  get  control  of  them  so  soon,  as  they 
themselves  absolutely  had  nothing  to  do  with  them. 
"  Oh  !  "  I  said,  ''  I  was  born  among  the  black  race,  and 


414  Led  On  I 


had  them  under  me  from  my  boyhood.  I  understand 
them  pretty  well,  and  these  people  soon  discovered 
that  I  was  not  a  stranger  to  their  race. ' '  One  of  them 
seemed  quite  sick  one  day,  and  I  went  up  to  him,  and  put 
my  hand  on  his  head,  and  by  signs  found  out  he  had  a 
bad  headache.  I  made  up  some  mustard  plasters  and  put 
them  on  his  temples,  telling  the  dragoman  to  warn  him 
not  to  keep  them  on  too  long.  He,  however,  tied  them 
on,  and  went  down  into  the  hole  of  the  boat,  and  closed 
the  hatch  after  him.  He  did  not  come  out  till  morning, 
when  the  headache  was  gone,  but  so,  too,  the  skin  on  his 
temples,  for  he  had  kept  the  plasters  on  all  night,  and  two 
large,  raw,  white  patches  were  on  each  side  of  his  head. 
As  he  was  cured,  I  gained  quite  a  reputation,  and  had  to 
prescribe  for  every  ailment  of  all  the  crew  the  rest  of  the 
trip.  It  was  noised  abroad,  and  when  I  returned  to 
Cairo  and  went  out  again  to  the  Pyramids,  I  could  not 
get  off  from  going  to  a  village  to  see  a  man  w4th  paralysis. 
I  prescribed  very  earnestly,  but  did  not  cure  that  man. 

From  IvUxor,  I  took  the  steamer  to  Assyout,  from  there 
by  rail  to  Cairo,  returning  in  two  days  from  a  trip  which 
had  taken  three  months,  when  I  met  Mr.  Wadsworth  and 
Mr.  Craig,  and  became  their  guest.  In  a  week  we  went 
over  to  Suez,  and  took  a  boat  a  few  miles  down  the  Red 
Sea,  where  we  met  our  camels  and  started  on  our  journe}^, 
following  the  track  of  the  Children  of  Israel,  through  the 
wilderness  of  Sin,  and  then  through  the  different  wadys 
or  valleys  of  Mt.  Sinai.  The  fountain  of  Moses,  the  well 
of  Marah,  the  wells  of  Klim,  and  the  place  where  manna 
was  first  given,  and  the  quails  were  sent,  were  the  points 
of  interest,  before  we  turned  off  from  the  sea  to  make 
towards  Mt.  Sinai.  The  sandy  plain  through  which  we 
travelled  on  the  camels  is  about  three  miles  wide,  with 
the  Red  Sea  on  the  right,  and  a  range  of  sand-covered 
hills  on  the  left.     These  hills  are  almost  entirely  of  ala- 


Modern  Jerusalem  m  Holy  Week.        4 1 5 

baster,  large  and  handsome  pieces  of  which  He  scattered 
over  the  plain.  I  wonder  some  syndicate  does  not  get  the 
privilege  of  mining  these  hills,  in  which  there  is  a  fortune 
for  somebody. 

As  we  turned  to  the  left,  at  right  angles  from  the  sea, 
the  ground  gradually  ascends  to  a  few  hundred  yards  from 
the  mouth  of  the  valley.  I  looked  back  and  do  not  re- 
member to  have  seen  a  more  magnificent  sight  The 
marvellous  blueness  of  the  sea,  the  Libyan  Mountains  in 
the  background,  and  the  walls  of  the  mountains  on  either 
side  of  the  valley  of  bare,  solid  rock,  and  of  div^ers  colors, 
make  it  a  gorgeous  gateway.  I  never  saw  such  rocks  or 
mountains  before  ;  they  were  separate  ;  one  was  white, 
one  black,  one  red,  one  purple,  one  variegated,  and  then 
some  of  them  gray  and  disintegrating  with  age  ;  and  this 
continues  for  some  miles.  I  believe  we  were  in  the  very 
track  of  the  children  of  Israel,  but,  instead  of  a  dreary 
desert,  it  was  a  magnificent  highway  leading  up  to  Mt. 
Sinai.  By  the  third  day  on  the  camels  I  wished  I  had  no 
back,  and  did  as  much  walking  as  I  could.  As  the  ascent 
to  the  foot  of  Mt.  Sinai  is  very  gradual,  we  had  to  use  our 
instruments  each  night  to  find  out  how  many  miles  we 
had  ascended,  but  the  slope  of  the  winding  valleys  is  so 
gradual,  we  scarcely  noticed  it. 

Of  course,  there  was  much  of  interest  in  the  ten  days' 
journey,  for  we  did  not  travel  long  each  day,  and  laid  over 
Sunday  at  the  Wady  Feiran,  which  is  well  watered  and  fer- 
tile. We  camped  outside  the  wall  of  the  Convent  of  St. 
Catherine,  on  Mt.  Sinai.  The  group  of  peaks  forming  Mt. 
Sinai,  as  you  approach,  gives  the  impression  of  an  immense 
cathedral,  with  four  high  and  pointed  towers,  one  of  which 
is  the  mountain  of  the  Law.  From  its  top,  and  winding 
somewhat  in  the  rear,  there  is  a  stream  of  water  which, 
flowing  down  and  winding  near  to  the  base,  loses  itself  in 
the  sand.     This  is  the  stream  into  which  Moses  threw  the 


41 6  Led  On  ! 

particles  of  the  brazen  calf  which  the  people  had  made. 
All  is  there  now,  as  it  must  have  been  then.  I  could  not 
help  thinking,  ' '  This  is  the  water  that  with  others  rises 
to  the  surface  at  Feiran  and  at  the  wells  of  Elim,"  and 
thought  if  Moses  had  known  anything  about  artesian 
wells  he  need  not  have  been  troubled  about  watering  his 
host.  This  group  of  peaks  seems  to  be  the  culminating 
point  of  this  peninsula  which  lies  between  the  Red  Sea 
and  the  gulf  of  Akabah.  Entirely  encircling  the  group 
is  a  wide  valley.  The  Mount  of  the  Law  rises  with  a 
straight  wall  from  the  plain  which  stretches  some  two 
miles  away  and  a  mile  wide.  Here  the  Israelites  were 
encamped  for  two  years.  The  floor  of  the  plain  rises  from 
the  base  of  Sinai,  back  like  the  floor  of  a  theatre,  so  that 
those  who  were  encamped  on  the  further  outskirt  could 
see  the  mount,  from  its  base  to  its  summit.  My  two 
friends  started  to  ascend  the  peak,  and  I  went  with  them  ; 
but  they  had  youth  on  their  side,  and  I  gave  out  at  the 
Chapel  of  Elijah,  the  traditional  spot  where  God,  in  the 
still,  small  voice,  spoke  to  the  prophet.  The  others  went 
some  miles  farther  on,  but  returned  without  reaching  the 
summit.  We  paid  many  visits  to  the  Convent,  and  I  could 
fill  many  pages  with  descriptions,  but  so  much  is  written 
on  the  subject  that  I  hurry  on. 

We  stayed  a  week  here  and  experienced  a  great  variety 
of  weather.  We  had  thunder-storms,  hail  and  snow,  and 
warm,  clear  daj^s.  Returning  by  a  shorter  wa}^,  we  reached 
Suez  in  some  four  days,  where  we  bade  not  an  affectionate 
farewell  to  our  camels.  The  next  day  we  went  to  Port  Said, 
via  the  Suez  Canal,  and  from  there  to  Joppa,  and  arrived  at 
the  Mount  of  Olives  on  the  29th  of  March,  1890.  The  30th 
was  Palm  Sunday,  and  we  camped  on  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
walked  over  to  Jerusalem,  and  attended  service  at  the 
English  Chapel.  We  spent  Holy  Week  in  Jerusalem,  and 
Maundy  Thursday  night  I  was  at  the  celebration  at  the 


Modern  yerusale7n  in  Holy  Week,        4 1 7 

chapel,  a  night  never  to  be  forgotten.  After  service,  I 
mounted  my  horse,  and  rode  around  the  walls  of  Jerusa- 
lem, across  the  brook  Kidron,  and  by  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane.  The  moon  was  very  bright,  and  as  I 
reached  the  wall  I  heard  the  old  familiar  tune,  Hebron, 
v/hich  was  being  sung  by  a  large  congregation  in  the 
Garden.  It  seems  it  was  the  custom  for  the  congregation 
to  go  in  a  body  from  the  church,  after  the  celebration,  to 
Gethsemane,  and  there  to  sing  and  pray.  I  did  not  know 
it,  or  would  have  been  with  them  ;  but  I  rode  near  to  the 
wall,  and  leaned  against  it,  and  my  emotional  nature 
gave  vent  in  tears  of  gratitude  to  Him  who  there  had 
sweated  great  drops  of  blood  for  me. 

It  was  quite  cold,  and  when  I  reached  the  tent  I  found 
the  dragoman  had  a  nice  fire  of  coals,  where  I  warmed  my 
hands  and  thought  of  poor  Peter,  and  prayed  I  might 
never  deny  my  I^ord.  We  went  to  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  on  Easter  Sunday,  and  there,  in  a  chapel 
loaned  to  the  English  priest,  we  partook  of  the  Holy 
Eucharist.  On  Monday  we  left  for  the  Jordan.  We  took 
a  more  circuitous  route,  going  by  the  Vale  of  Ajalon,  and 
by  Beth  Horon,  and  so  crossed,  by  a  bridge,  beyond  Jordan, 
into  the  land  of  Moab,  when  we  crossed  the  Jordan  and 
ascended  the  steep  side  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  mountain. 
We  reached  the  top,  and  found  ourselves  upon  a  wide-ex- 
tended, undulating  plain,  and  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see 
it  was  one  vast  green  field,  and  here  and  there  camps  of 
Arabs,  who  locate  for  a  time  and  plant  and  then  go  on  to 
other  fields  until  they  cover  a  large  area,  and  in  harv^est 
time  repeat  their  nomadic  life.  I  did  not  wonder  that 
Reuben  and  Gad  wished  to  stay  there,  after  their  weary 
journey  in  the  wilderness,  for  there  was  abundant  pastur- 
age for  their  cattle,  and  the  barren  hills  over  the  Jordan 
were  less  inviting.  Our  first  objective  point  was  Hesh- 
bon,  of  which  we  read  in  the  second  chapter  of  Deuteron- 


4 1 8  Led  On  / 


omy.  ^This  was  the  city  of  Sihon,  King  of  the  Amorites, 
who  refused  to  let  Moses  pass  through,  and  God  gave  him 
and  his  cities  into  the  hands  of  Moses.  It  is  all  a  ruin 
now,  but  there  must  have  been  very  large  buildings  there 
once.  Mt.  Nebo,  or  Pisgah,  is  not  far  off,  and  thither  we 
prepared  to  go,  as  we  were  under  the  protection  of  the 
sheik  of  that  district,  to  whom  quite  a  sum  had  been  paid. 
As  we  were  riding  on  very  quietly,  suddenly  our  sheik 
stopped  and  said  his  jurisdiction  there  ended,  and  an  Arab 
took  hold  of  the  bridle  of  our  dragoman,  and  refused  to 
allow  us  to  proceed.  Mt.  Nebo  was  not  a  half-mile  dis- 
tant, and  we  insisted  on  going  on.  The  Bedouin  became 
furious,  and  our  dragoman  lost  his  temper  and  drew  his 
pistol.  I  was  riding  beside  him,  and  as  he  threw  it  over 
to  take  aim  at  the  man  I  looked  down  the  barrel,  caught 
his  arm,  and  threw  it  up,  and  told  him  very  peremptorily 
not  to  shoot.  Should  he  kill  that  man,  our  lives  would 
not  be  worth  a  penny.  The  man  tore  himself  off,  and 
rushed  down  the  side  of  the  mountain,  towards  the  Dead 
Sea.  We  rode  on,  and  soon  stood  on  the  top  of  Pisgah, 
where  Moses  stood.  We  had  not  been  there  long  when 
we  saw  a  great  crowd  of  dark  figures  coming  up  out  of  the 
valley,  headed  by  the  man  who  had  tried  to  stop  us. 
They  were  coming  up  very  fast,  and  in  great  numbers, 
so  we  concluded  we  had  better  return  to  the  protection  of 
our  sheik,  which  we  did  in  a  hurry.  Mt.  Nebo  is  only  a 
rocky  mound,  rising  some  two  or  three  hundred  feet  from 
the  plain,  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice  overlooking  the 
Dead  Sea.  The  view  must  have  been  more  attractive  in 
Moses'  day  than  it  was  to  us,  for  as  far  as  we  could  see  the 
whole  country  had  a  most  desolate  appearance.  We  could 
see  the  tower  of  Ascension,  on  Mt.  Olivet,  some  twenty 
miles  away,  but  up  the  Jordan  Valley,  and  over  the 
hill  country  of  Judea,  we  saw  only  barren  limestone 
rocks. 


Modern  yertcsalem  in  Holy  Week.        419 

Our  next  journey  was  to  Rabbah-Ammon,  a  few  miles 
off.  Here  Og,  the  King  of  Basan,  with  his  iron  bedstead, 
nine  cubits  the  length  and  four  cubits  the  breadth,  of 
course  came  to  our  minds.  It  was  here  the  events  re- 
corded in  the  second  chapter  of  Second  Samuel  took  place, 
the  scene  of  David's  awful  sin  in  the  murder  of  Uriah  the 
Hittite.  From  thence  we  went  to  Ramoth  Gilead,  now 
called  Salt,  then  over  the  brook  Jabbok,  where  Jacob 
wrestled  with  the  Angel,  and  on  to  Jerash.  The  founda- 
tions of  the  gates  where  David  heard  of  the  death  of  Absa- 
lom are  still  there.  We  then  crossed  back  over  the 
Jordan,  and  made  our  way  to  Shechem,  now  called  Nab- 
lous,  a  somewhat  populous  town,  a  place  that  recalls 
Abraham  and  Jacob.  Here  is  the  grave  of  Joseph,  and 
the  well  of  Jacob,  where  our  Lord  met  the  woman  of 
Samaria  and  revealed  to  her  His  Divine  nature.  The 
grave  is  there  and  the  well  is  there,  and  Mount  Ebal  is 
on  one  side  of  the  valley  and  Mount  Gerizim  on  the 
other.  Those  who  are  familiar  with  the  Bible  will  re- 
member how  much  history  is  connected  with  this  locality. 
We  passed  on  to  Samaria,  a  few  miles  distant,  where 
Naaman  the  leper  and  the  Prophet  Klisha  of  course 
came  to  our  minds,  with  all  the  rest  of  the  interesting  his- 
tor}^  connected  with  the  place. 

We  passed  through  Dothan,  and  saw  many  of  the  pits 
which  are  there,  into  one  of  which  Joseph  was  cast  by  his 
jealous  brothers.  We  left  Mount  Carmel  a  few  miles  to 
the  left,  and  descended  to  the  valley  of  Esdraelon  ;  skirt- 
ing along  the  river  Kishon,  we  went  to  Gilboa,  where 
Saul  and  Jonathan  were  slain,  and  to  Jezreel,  where  Jeze- 
bel was  thrown  to  the  dogs,  and  to  Shunem,  and  Endor, 
and  Nain.  There,  the  widow's  dead  son  and  our  Lord 
came  vividly  to  memory.  In  this  small  area,  a  vast  deal 
of  history  has  been  enacted.  This  is  the  scene  which  re- 
veals Jabin  and  Sisera  and  Jael,  and  where  in  later  times 


420  Led  071 ! 


great  battles  have  been  fought.  The  river  Kishon,  which 
rises  through  the  valley,  may  be  at  times  a  stream  of  some 
dimensions  ;  when  we  saw  it,  in  the  month  of  May,  it  was 
a  very  small  creek,  with  very  little  water  in  it.  We 
crossed  over,  and  ascended  the  hills  of  Galilee,  and  went 
to  Nazareth,  the  home  of  the  blessed  Virgin,  the  scene  of 
the  boyhood  and  early  manhood  of  Him  who  rules  our 
hearts,  and  from  whom  the  joy  of  earth  and  the  hope  of 
heaven  are  derived.  I  could  have  lingered  longer  there 
than  we  did,  but  time  was  beginning  to  press,  and  we 
went  on  down  to  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  where  we  stayed  some 
days.  It  escaped  my  memory  when  writing  of  Jerash  that, 
as  we  made  our  way  through  the  woods  of  Gilead,  I  felt 
very  homesick  ;  we  seemed  to  be  so  far  from  home,  so  out 
of  the  world.  I  was  riding  alone,  some  little  distance 
from  my  friends,  when  I  happened  to  look  up,  and  there, 
hanging  in  the  air,  was  a  telegraph  wire.  On  inquiry,  I 
found  that  at  Jerash  I  could  have  sent  a  message  to  the 
dear  ones  at  home.  At  once  the  feeling  of  isolation  left 
me.  Thanks  to  the  science  of  this  wonderful  age,  away 
off,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Jordan,  surrounded  by  wild 
Bedouins,  I  could  in  a  few  moments  have  told  them  at 
home  where  I  was. 

We  camped  beside  the  sea  of  Galilee,  near  a  very 
hot  spring,  where  there  is  a  bath-house  ;  visited  Ti- 
berias, and  Magdala,  and  Bethsaida,  Capernaum,  and 
Chorazin,  or  rather  the  sites,  for  all  else  is  ruin  and 
desolation.  There  are  some  very  fine  broken  columns  at 
Capernaum,  with  the  tracery  of  a  vine,  and  with  a  plate 
with  something,  thought  to  represent  manna,  carved  on 
the  lintel,  and  the  ruin  is  held  to  be  that  of  the  synagogue 
built  by  the  pious  centurion.  We  crossed  the  sea  in  one 
of  those  little  ships,  or  boats,  exactly  similar  to  those  in 
which  our  Lord  crossed  the  lake.  We  went  to  the  reputed 
scene  of  the  herd  of  swine,  and  the  field  where  there  is 


Modern  J erusalem  in  Holy  Week.        421 

much  grass,  and  where  the  five  thousand  were  fed.  It 
was  on  one  of  the  small  hills  just  back  of  the  site  of 
Capernaum  that  our  Lord  delivered  His  great  Sermon 
on  the  Mount.  It  was  very  calm,  and  very  hot,  when  we 
rowed  over  in  the  morning,  but  we  had  a  stiff  breeze  against 
us,  and  it  was  somewhat  rough  on  our  return.  Leaving 
the  sea,  we  followed  the  course  of  the  Jordan,  by  the  waters 
of  Merom,  and  reached  Dan,  now  called  Banias,  the  site 
of  Csesarea  Philippi,  the  farthest  point  north  that  our  Lord 
went,  near  which  He  was  transfigured  on  one  of  the  spurs 
of  Mount  Hermon.  Though  Mount  Tabor  is  the  tradi- 
tional place,  it  could  not  have  been  there  ;  it  does  not  topo- 
graphically fit  in  with  the  histor3\  From  here  our  Lord 
took  His  way  back  to  Jerusalem,  to  be  crucified.  From 
under  the  mountain  at  Dan  a  considerable  stream  gushes 
out,  and  this  is  one  of  the  sources  of  the  Jordan. 

We  crossed  over  a  part  of  Mount  Hermon,  and  the  little 
stream  of  Pharpar,  and  entered  the  plain,  somewhere  in 
which  Saul  of  Tarsus  was  travelling  on  his  way  to  Damas- 
cus. It  was  intensely  hot,  and  the  water  had  disagreed 
with  me,  and  I  was  pretty  well  used  up  by  the  time 
we  reached  Damascus.  This  is  the  most  unchanged 
Oriental  city  I  had  visited.  As  I  looked  into  the  clear 
waters  of  the  Abana,  which  flows  through  the  city,  I  did 
not  wonder  that  Naaman  looked  contemptuously  on  the 
muddy  waters  of  Jordan,  and  rather  resented  that  he  was 
to  go  and  wash  in  it.  There  is  a  hospital  for  lepers  on 
the  reputed  site  of  his  house.  There  I  saw  a  horrible 
sight  and  cut  my  visit  to  the  hospital  very  short.  The 
street  which  is  called  Straight,  with  the  other  points  of 
interest,  we  visited.  My  friends  were  going  on  to  Palmyra, 
but  this  meant  six  days  more  each  way,  through  a  desert, 
and  I  had  been  on  horseback  every  day,  save  Sunday,  since 
the  27th  of  March,  and  was  two  weeks  before  on  a  camel. 
This  was  now  the  last  of  May,  and  I  was  tired  out ;  so  I 


42v2  Led  On! 


thanked  them   for  their  kindness  and  turned  my   face 
homeward. 

I  took  passage  in  a  very  comfortable  wagon,  and  went 
over  to  Baalbeck  ;  saw  seven  wonderful  columns,  and  the 
ruins  of  the  great  Temple  of  Baal ;  was  charmed  with  that 
trip,  but  next  day  took  stage,  over  the  splendid  macad- 
amized road,  and  before  dark  was  at  Beyrout.  I  could 
very  easily  have  written  a  volume  of  descriptions  and  im- 
pressions, but  I  must  bring  this  biograph}^  to  a  close,  and 
refer  my  readers  to  the  books  of  those  whose  writings 
would  be  more  interesting.  Beyrout  is  a  charming  sea- 
port town  on  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  and  I  staj^ed  there 
a  few  days  waiting  for  a  ship  ;  then  sailed  to  Smyrna,  and 
Kphesus  by  rail  some  sixty-four  miles  from  Smyrna.  The 
foundations  of  the  great  Temple  of  Diana  are  still  there, 
and  there  are  some  most  magnificent  columns  prostrate  and 
broken.  I  thought  the  carvings  superior  to  anything  I 
saw  in  Greece.  St.  Paul  and  the  Beloved  Disciple  were 
in  the  mind  all  the  while  ;  Ignatius  and  Polycarp,  the 
second  chapter  of  the  Revelation  of  St.  John  I  was  reading 
while  in  those  places.  I  was  amazed  at  the  beauty,  and 
extent  of  the  present  Smyrna,  and  the  handsome  build- 
ings and  grand  harbor.  I  saw  more  ocean  steamers  in  the 
three  days  I  was  there  than  I  see  in  a  winter  in  my  own 
home  in  Charleston.  The  effete  East  quite  vanished  from 
my  mind  ;  for  signs  of  life,  enterprise,  and  progress  were 
all  around.  I  sailed  next  for  Athens,  passed  the  isle  of 
Patmos,  and  stopped  at  Cyprus  ;  enjoyed  my  visit  and 
stay  of  three  days  at  Athens  immensely ;  then  sailed  for 
Brindisi,  thence  to  Naples,  Rome,  Paris,  London,  where 
my  dear  friend,  Mr.  Fred.  A.  White,  and  his  family,  re- 
(Ceived  me  with  loving  hospitality.  I  spent  a  week  in 
j'lvOndon,  bade  them  good-bye,  I  fear  forever;  went  on  to 
Liverpool,  thence  to  New  York,  where  my  sons  Theodore 
and   Charles  met  me,   and  then   for  home,   Charleston, 


Modern  J erusalem  in  Holy  Week.        423 

where  I  arrived  on  the  17th  of  June,  1890,  having  been 
gone  just  one  year  and  one  day. 

This  extended  tour,  which  I  believe  has  prolonged  my 
life,  cost  neither  myself  nor  my  school  one  penny.  It 
was  enjoyed  through  the  generosity  of  Mrs.  Daniel  Le 
Roy,  Mrs.  Edward  King,  the  Misses  Mason,  Mr.  Fred.  A. 
White,  Bishop  Wilkinson,  and  Mr.  Clarence  Wadsworth. 
I  was  thus  enabled  to  visit  countries  which  I  never 
dreamed  I  should  see.  My  benefactors,  each  and  all, 
have  my  profoundest  gratitude.  I  found  my  son  Theo- 
dore had  successfully  carried  the  parish  and  the  school 
through  the  year;  but  he  was  so  broken  down  by  the 
strain  that  I  made  arrangements  for  him  and  sent  him 
abroad  to  spend  three  or  four  months. 


\1^£^^ 

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E 

CHAPTER  XI.V 


END   OF  A   BEAUTIFUL  LIFE 


/  suffer  a  sad  bereavement  in  the  death  of  my  wife — Her 
great  power  in  helping  and  guiding  my  life's  work — 
Summary  of  so7ne  years'  toil. 


DURING  my  absence  in  Europe,  the  Diocesan 
Council  held  its  annual  session  at  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Communion,  and  from  many  sources  I  learned 
that  the  service  held  at  the  opening  of  the  Council  was 
very  fine.  My  son,  who  is  my  assistant,  received  many 
congratulations  for  his  successful  effort,  and  it  afforded  to 
very  many  the  first  opportunity  of  knowing  the  capabili- 
ties of  the  liturgy  of  the  Church.  It  removed  many  mis- 
apprehensions and  prejudices,  and  has  enabled  many 
clergymen  to  introduce  a  more  elaborate  and  reverential 
service,  without  arousing  antagonisms  and  unfavorable 
comment.  Our  surpliced  choir,  with  our  most  excellent 
organist,  Mr.  Huguelet,  accompanied  by  a  full  orchestra, 
enabled  my  son  to  render  such  a  service  as  was  never  be- 
fore held  in  South  Carolina. 

I  omitted  in  the  record  of  1888  to  mention  the  death  of 
my  aged  mother,  who  entered  into  rest  on  the  30th  of 
January,  in  her  eighty-sixth  year,  having  been  a  great  in- 
valid for  some  seven  j^ears.     She  was  buried  on  the  sixti- 

424 


E7id  of  a  Bea  ii  tiftc I  L  ife.  425 

eth  anniversary  of  my  birth,  and  had  lived  to  see  her 
children's  children  to  the  third  generation.  She  was 
buried  by  the  side  of  her  husband,  to  whose  memory  she 
had  been  so  faithful. 

After  the  close  of  the  school,  the  last  of  June,  I  took  my 
wife  to  Asheville,  where  in  her  suffering  life  she  had  en- 
joyed most  comfort  during  the  past  few  summers.  She 
had  borne  up  cheerfully  under  our  long  separation,  but 
when  I  returned  home  the  tension  was  removed,  and  she 
declined  rapidly.  We  returned  to  Charleston  in  the  fall, 
the  school  opened  as  usual,  and  there  is  nothing  of  par- 
ticular interest  to  relate. 

In  February,  my  wife  was  attacked  with  that  disease 
which  has  afflicted  the  country  for  many  years,  the 
grippe,  and  she  continued  very  feeble  all  the  winter  and 
spring.  Then  my  son  Charles  was  to  be  married  in 
Opelika,  Alabama,  to  Miss  Nellie  Driver,  on  the  12th 
of  May.  My  wife  was  not  able  to  go,  but  my  son  Theo- 
dore and  his  wife  and  I  had  to  go,  of  course.  We  left 
m}^  wife  apparently  no  worse  than  she  had  been  for 
months,  but  on  our  return  on  the  13th  we  found  her  in 
bed  and  very  sick.  Gradually  she  grew  worse,  and  on 
the  19th  of  June,  1891,  her  pure  and  saintly  spirit  entered 
into  the  paradise  of  God,  and  her  poor  suffering  body  was 
at  rest.  We  had  been  married  thirty-nine  years,  and 
thirty  of  those  years  she  had  been  a  patient  sufferer,  unable 
to  engage  in  any  of  the  activities  of  the  parish  life  ;  but 
such  was  the  strength  of  her  spotless  character,  that  she 
wielded  an  influence  through  all  my  parish.  Often  have 
ladies  gone  into  her  sick-room  with  sad  countenance  and 
heavy  heart,  and  after  telling  to  her  their  trouble,  and 
listening  to  her  wise  and  gentle  counsel,  and  often  being 
convinced  by  her  that  their  sorrows  were  self-made,  I 
have  seen  them  leave  that  room  of  pain  with  bright 
smiles,  saying  it  was  a  privilege  to  have  a  few  moments 


426  Led  On  I 

with  her.  In  all  my  acquaintance  with  men  and  women, 
I  have  never  known  a  person  of  such  wonderful  j  udgment 
and  discretion.  She  never  took  sides,  but  always  weighed 
every  grievance,  and  invariably  acted  as  peacemaker.  In 
all  our  married  life,  I  never  did  a  thing  that  was  contrary 
to  her  advice  or  opinion  without  having  reason  to  regret 
it.  Impulsive  myself  by  nature,  she  was  ever  my  cor- 
rective. I  have  been  alone  now  for  eight  years,  and  I  have 
mourned  her,  and  miss  her  now,  more  than  I  can  express. 
In  the  weary  years  of  my  incessant  struggle  to  maintain 
this  work,  she  was  always  hopeful  and  encouraging. 
How  often  have  I  gone  to  her  sick-bed  feeling  I  had  to 
give  up,  for  there  was  nothing  in  the  treasury,  and  months 
to  get  to  the  end  of  the  term,  and  again  and  again  she 
would  say:  "  Husband,  did  God  give  you  that  work  to 
do  ?  Have  you  done  your  best  ?  Has  He  not  signally 
blessed  it  ?  Is  it  right  to  doubt  His  providential  care  ? 
Help  will  come.  Do  your  duty  and  trust."  And  help 
always  did  come,  sometimes  most  unexpectedly  and  un- 
sought. 

Her  life  was  a  benediction  to  all  around  her,  and  though 
seldom  free  from  pain,  her  calm  and  cheerful  temper 
made  it  a  privilege  to  minister  to  her.  A  conversation 
held  with  her  during  her  illness  illustrates  her  life.  I 
thought  she  must  die,  and  sitting  by  her  I  said  :  "  My 
wife,  what  will  I  do  without  you  ?     I  dread  the  loneli- 


ness." 


Turning  her  eyes,  beaming  with  love  and  faith,  upon 
me,  she  said:  "  Alone  ;  oh,  no,  my  dear,  not  alone.  You 
by  faith  will  be  with  Jesus,  I,  by  sight,  will  be  with  Him, 
and  in  and  through  Him  we  will  still  be  together." 

I  recollect  that  on  one  occasion  since  her  death  I  was 
much  perplexed  as  to  what  I  ought  to  do  about  opening 
the  school  again  in  view  of  the  financial  tempest,  the  wild 
silver  craze,   the  depression  everywhere  :  I  was  asleep, 


End  of  a  Beautiful  Life.  42  7 

and  I  thought  my  wife  stood  at  the  head  of  my  bed.  I 
felt  her  hand  on  my  forehead  and  stroking  my  hair.  I 
did  not  seem  to  be  asleep,  nor  was  she  at  all  spiritual  in 
appearance  ;  she  had  her  old-time  sweet,  natural  look, 
and  she  said,  "  My  dear,  your  life  is  guided  by  a  Provi- 
dence you  know  not  of. "  I  turned  and  told  her,  '  *  Yes, 
my  wife,  I  believe  it,"  and  as  I  looked  at  her,  she  van- 
ished. Was  it  a  dream  or  was  it  a  visitation  ?  I  believe 
the  latter. 

I  live  now  on  those  words  of  cheer  and  comfort.  She 
has  not  forgotten,  and  in  the  presence  of  our  blessed  Lord 
I  have  no  doubt  that  through  her  intercession,  the  help 
has  come  that  has  enabled  me  to  go  on.  But  for  her  this 
work  had  never  been  done.  It  was  she  who  cheerfully 
gave  up  the  rent  of  the  house  which  was  our  only  income 
in  1867.  It  was  she  who  said:  *'  If  God  has  given  you  a 
work  to  do  go  and  do  it  ;  we  will  not  starve.  Weak  as  I 
am,  we  will  take  boarders  to  enable  you  to  give  up  our 
rented  house  for  an  Orphanage."  And  never  did  she 
once  repent  of  it,  nor  ever  once  suggest  that  I  had  done 
enough,  but  rather  urged  me  to  go  on.  She  was  a  model 
daughter,  a  wife  and  mother  as  perfect  as  it  is  possible 
for  poor  humanity  to  be,  and  I  wait  the  time  when  we 
shall  be  reunited  in  the  life  where  there  is  no  more 
parting. 

I  closed  the  school  two  weeks  after  my  wife's  death,  for 
the  summer  holidays,  and  began  again  in  October.  There 
is  now  nothing  of  importance  to  relate  ;  the  usual  hard 
struggle  to  get  through,  but  somehow  in  the  Providence 
of  God  we  closed  the  school  the  last  of  June  and  went  to 
Asheville.  Earlj^  in  September  our  coast  was  visited  by  the 
most  terrific  cyclone  ever  experienced  here,  accompanied 
by  a  tidal  wave,  which  swept  over  our  sea  islands  and 
drowned  over  one  thousand  persons,  principally  negro 
laborers.     Here  was  a  dilemma  for  me.      Not  a  single 


428  Led  On! 

person  in  all  that  section  applied  for  the  admission  of  a 
boy  into  the  school,  and  I  was  greatly  perplexed.  What 
was  I  to  do  ?  I  had  been  praying  very  earnestly  for  light 
and  guidance,  one  evening,  when  the  thought  came  to 
me,  If  your  treasury  is  full,  where  is  your  faith  ?  If 
you  go  on  with  your  work,  with  nothing  in  view,  but 
only  trust  in  God,  that  is  faith.  I  took  it  as  an  answer 
to  my  prayers,  and  rose  from  my  knees,  and  wrote  a 
circular  to  the  desolate  parents  of  my  boys,  and  told 
them  to  send  their  sons,  pay  if  they  could,  if  not,  God 
would  help  me  in  some  way.  I  took  ninety-eight  boys, 
without  the  promise  of  a  cent.  I  wrote  an  appeal  in 
the  Churchman  and  received  a  few  dollars  in  reply,  but, 
later  in  the  fall,  Miss  Ellen  and  Miss  Ida  Mason  sent  me 
their  annual  large  donation,  and  somehow  or  other  I 
pulled  through  ;  and  so  we  have  gone  on,  and  now  I  am 
at  the  close  of  my  thirtieth  year,  in  the  year  1897,  having 
been  sustained  through  all  these  years  by  the  merciful 
providence  of  God,  and  the  generosity  of  friends  at  the 
North,  and  in  England. 

And  what  are  the  results  of  this  varied  life  ?  I  am 
now  in  the  forty-fourth  year  of  my  rectorship  of  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Communion,  having  built  the  church 
from  the  foundation.  I  have  married  267  couples  ;  bap- 
tized 1 1 13  persons  ;  there  have  been  confirmed  under 
my  ministry,  887  ;  and  I  have  buried  651  persons.  I 
have  seen  my  congregation  scattered  to  the  winds  by  a 
four  years'  war.  I  have  been  a  rector  of  a  church  in 
which  there  was  much  wealth,  but  have  lived  to  see  that 
wealth  take  wings  and  fly  away.  I  have  a  congregation 
of  earnest,  loving  people,  all  poor,  and  we  find  the  greatest 
difficulty  to  sustain  ourselves  on  the  most  economical 
basis.  Through  this  congregation,  in  forty  years  I  have 
been  instrumental  in  raising  and  distributing  for  church 
purposes  four  hundred  thousand  dollars.     I  served  St. 


End  of  a  Beautiful  Life.  429 

Mark's  Church,  a  colored  congregation,  for  ten  years,  and 
finished  their  church.  I  have  been  permitted  to  carry  on 
this  great  school  for  thirty  years,  have  given  a  more  or 
less  finished  education  to  over  three  thousand  boys,  fully 
twenty -five  hundred  of  these  gratuitously  or  for  a  mere 
pittance,  have  vSent  over  two  hundred  boys  to  college,  and 
have  educated  one  hundred  and  fifty  sons  of  clergymen 
gratuitously ;  have  furnished  twenty-two  men  to  the 
ministry,  with  several  candidates  for  Holy  Orders  at  this 
moment  preparing  for  the  ministry;  have  acquired  a 
whole  block  of  property  from  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment; have  erected  seven  houses  on  the  grounds,  and 
have  rented  them  out,  as  the  investment  of  a  small  per- 
manent endowment  fund  ;  have  raised  and  expended  in 
Christian  education  nearly  one  million  of  dollars  ;  have 
labored  and  suffered,  had  disappointments  and  sorrows, 
met  with  ingratitude,  and  with  the  warmest  love  and 
gratitude  of  others,  and  close  up  after  thirty  years  with  a 
deficiency  of  five  thousand  dollars  staring  me  in  the  face. 
But,  blessed  be  God,  though  perplexed,  yet  not  in  despair, 
for  I  believe  there  are  loving  hearts  beating  in  some 
breasts  which  shall  be  moved  to  help  me  through. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

THE   LATE  DR.    CHARLES   FREDERICK   HOFFMAN 

The  inauguration  of  McKinley — /  meet  an  old  friend  at 
Washington  —Death  of  my  dear  friend  and  benefactor,  the 
Rev.  Charles  Frederick  Hoffman — His  life  and  character, 
and  a7i  account  of  his  obsequies. 


LIEUT.  JOHN  McQueen  wrote  me  on  the  8tli  of 
February,  1897,  ^^^.t  he  was  to  meet  Gen.  O.  O. 
Howard  in  Washington,  at  the  inauguration  of  President 
McKinley,  and,  as  we  were  all  growing  old,  it  was  not 
likely  that  we  three  would  ever  meet  again,  as  he  lived 
in  Elgin,  Illinois,  General  Howard  in  Burlington,  Ver- 
mont, and  I  in  Charleston.  The  events  following  the 
burning  of  Columbia  had  intertwined  the  current  of  our 
lives,  he  said,  and  he  asked  me  to  meet  him  in  Washing- 
ton. Accordingly  I  went,  and  it  was  a  joyful  meeting 
between  the  three.  It  is  now  thirty- two  years  since  the 
events  of  1865,  recorded  in  these  pages.  McQueen  was 
then  twenty-seven,  General  Howard  thirty-three,  I  was 
thirty-seven  ;  we  are  now  three  gray-haired  old  men  of 
fifty-nine,  sixty-five,  and  sixty-nine,  but  neither  of  us 
has  forgotten  those  days.  McQueen  is  writing  the  story 
from  his  standpoint ;  I  wish  I  could  insert  it  here.  Many 
details   I   was   unacquainted   with,    and   it   will   not   be 

430 


The  Late  Di\  CJiarles  Frederick  Hoffman.      431 

uniutersting  to  read  the  record,  of  the  same  event,  by 
the  two  men  engaged  in  it.  McQueen  told  me  he 
felt  that  his  work  was  done,  but  it  had  come  over  him 
that  he  might  still  be  of  use,  and  he  intended  to  devote 
much  time  to  try  to  interest  persons  in  this  work,  and 
thus  show  his  gratitude  to  the  man  who  had  saved  his 
life,  by  striving  to  ease  the  burden  which  is  now  pressing 
vSO  heavily  on  me.  General  Howard  told  McQueen  how, 
in  1893,  he  had  started  out  with  me,  in  New  York,  to  try 
to  raise  a  large  sum  of  money,  as  he  wanted  to  be  instru- 
mental in  endowing  the  work  of  the  man  for  whom  he 
had  such  regard.  He  related  how  we  went  to  three  rich 
men,  and  one  of  them  was  so  rude  to  him  that  he  had 
shed  tears,  and  I  had  said  :  "  General,  we  must  stop  this. 
I  see  distinctly  these  men  are  frightened  ;  we  are  at  the 
beginning  of  a  financial  panic;  this  is  no  time  for  our 
work." 

And  it  was  true.  The  panic  of  1893  had  begun,  and 
the  effects  we  feel  in  1897.  "  But,"  added  General 
Howard,  *  *  I  have  not  given  up  my  wish  and  purpose.  I 
mean  yet  to  help  in  that  work.  Now,"  he  said,  "  you 
wish  to  do  the  same,  McQueen  ?     Give  me  your  hand." 

"  Where  two  of  you  agree  in  any  matter,  ask,  and  it 
shall  be  done  unto  you. ' '  I  trust  in  God  it  may  be  given 
to  these  two  friends  to  further  that  which  is  so  on  my 
heart — the  endowment  of  this  institute. 

The  whole  story  of  McQueen  and  myself  seems  like  a 
romance.  He  is  a  Northern  man,  I  am  a  Southerner  ;  he 
was  a  Federal  officer,  I  a  Confederate;  he  is  a  Republican, 
I  a  Democrat,  although  not  of  the  Bryan  stripe  ;  he  is  a 
Western  farmer,  I  a  clergyman  ;  he  is  a  Presbyterian,  I 
an  Episcopalian;  and  yet,  while  differing  at  every  point, 
there  are  no  two  men  whose  lives  have  been  more 
blended  together  by  no  design,  or  purpose,  or  vohtion. 
Strange  are  the  ways  of  Providence. 


432  Led  On! 

The  Inauguration  ceremonies  were  all  over.  It  was  an 
ideal  day,  and  a  very  magnificent  pageant,  and  I  was 
preparing  to  return  to  Charleston,  by  the  night's  train, 
when  I  received  a  telegram  from  my  dear  friend,  Mr. 
Charles  Frederick  Hoffman,  Jr.,  from  Jekyl  Island, 
Georgia,  informing  me  of  the  sudden  death,  on  the  4th  of 
March,  of  his  revered  father,  the  Rev.  Charles  Frederick 
Hoffman,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  D.C.L.  In  speaking  of  the  late 
Dr.  Hoffman,  I  must  go  back  to  the  year  1892,  when  I 
was  in  New  York,  and  had  met  with  much  to  discourage 
me,  so  that  I  had  actually  come  to  a  standstill.  In  that 
great  city,  so  full  of  wealth,  with  so  many  members  of  my 
own  Church,  yet  I  did  not  know  to  whom  I  could  go,  to 
ask  for  aid.  So  I  went  up  to  my  room  at  the  Everett 
House,  and  prayed  very  earnestly  for  direction,  and  after 
a  while,  I  went  down  to  the  sitting-room,  and  while  there 
it  had  occurred  to  me  that  I  must  go  and  call  on  the  Rev. 
Charles  Frederick  Hoffman,  D.D.,  of  whom  I  had  often 
heard,  but  to  whom  I  had  never  beeti  introduced.  I 
knew  his  brother,  the  Dean,  well,  but  I  had  never  had 
the  opportunity  of  meeting  his  brother,  the  rector.  I  had 
no  letter  of  introduction,  and  I  hesitated  a  long  while,  for 
it  is  not  my  habit  to  call  on  an5'one  without  an  introduc- 
tion. Still  I  thought  perhaps  he  might  have  heard  of  me, 
and  I  would  venture  to  call.  I  did  not  know  where  he 
lived,  and  so  had  to  look  up  his  residence  in  the  Directory. 
Finding  it  was  31  West  7 2d  Street,  New  York,  I  boarded 
a  Columbus  Avenue  car,  and  went  with  anxious  heart. 

Reaching  his  house,  I  sent  in  my  card,  and  was  invited 
into  his  handsome  study.  He  asked  me  to  be  seated,  and 
finished  with  a  couple  of  men,  who  seemed  to  be  engaged 
in  some  kind  of  work  for  him.  Having  dismissed  them, 
he  took  his  seat,  and  the  first  thing  he  said  was,  ' '  I  know 
what  you  have  come  for. ' ' 

Yes, ' '  I  replied  ;  * '  Dr.  Hoffman,  I  suppose  you  are 


The  Late  Dr.  Charles  Frederick  Hoffman.     433 

so  frequently  intruded  upon  that  you  can  readily  imagine 
the  object  of  my  visit." 

I  found  out  afterwards  that  the  Doctor,  when  interested, 
often  sat  with  his  elbow  on  the  table,  and  his  cheek  in 
the  palm  of  his  hand.     He  was  in  that  position,  and  said  : 

*'  Before  you  go  on,  I  will  say  to  you,  in  my  judgment, 
considering  your  surroundings,  you  have  done  the  largest 
and  most  important  single-handed  work  which  has  been 
done  by  any  man  in  the  Church  since  the  war.  You  wish 
me  to  help  you  ;  of  course  I  will,  as  every  man  in  the 
Church  ought  to  do. ' ' 

This,  of  course,  relieved  me  of  anxiety  and  embarrass- 
ment, as  he  evidently  meant  it  should.  I  thanked  him 
for  his  good  opinion,  but  did  not  flatter  myself  that  he 
knew  what  my  work  had  been,  but  he  told  me  he  knew 
all  about  it,  and  asked  me  to  tell  him  what  I  wanted. 
We  then  went  very  fully  into  the  work,  and  he  asked  me 
if  I  had  a  library  building.  I  told  him  no  ;  I  had  some 
books,  but  only  in  a  room.  "  Such  an  institution,"  he 
said,  "  ought  to  have  a  library  building." 

I  told  him  that  the  struggle  for  bread  and  for  teachers' 
salaries  had  been  so  great  that  while  I  hoped  some  time  a 
library  would  come,  my  hope  was  far  in  the  distant  future. 

"  No,"  he  said;  "go  to  Messrs.  J.  B.  Snooks  &  Co., 
12  Chambers  Street,  and  tell  them  what  you  wish,  and 
direct  them  to  furnish  plans,  and  I  will  pay  for  it. ' ' 

My  joy  may  be  imagined.  The  architects  furnished 
plans,  but  they  did  not  meet  with  the  Doctor's  approval. 
He  asked  if  I  had  any  idea  of  the  kind  of  building  I 
needed.  I  told  him  I  could  draw  a  ground  plan,  but  not 
the  elevations.  He  handed  me  a  pencil  and  some  paper. 
I  drew  the  plan.  He  smiled  when  he  looked  at  it,  and 
taking  a  paper  from  his  drawer  which  he  had  sketched, 
he  said,  "Which  is  yours  and  which  is  mine  ?  "  We  had 
made   the  same  design  without  consultation  ;   the  only 


434  -^^^  On  ! 

difference  was,  that  I  had  placed  the  four  reading-rooms 
on  the  four  sides,  and  he  had  put  them  on  the  angles  of 
the  octagon.  I  liked  his  best.  He  accordingly  gave 
general  directions  to  the  architects  as  to  the  elevations, 
and  they  prepared  the  design,  which  he  accepted,  and 
authorized  me  to  advertise  for  bids  for  its  erection.  On 
the  19th  of  October,  1893,  the  corner-stone  was  laid,  with 
appropriate  ceremonies,  and  on  the  26th  of  June,  1894,  it 
was  formally  opened.  At  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone, 
Mr.  J.  P.  Kennedy  Bryan,  a  distinguished  member  of  the 
Charleston  bar,  delivered  a  chaste,  thoughtful,  and  elo- 
quent address.  The  Citadel  Cadets,  escorted  by  the 
Porter  Military  Academy  Cadets,  were  in  the  chapel. 
Mr.  Bryan's  address  was  partly  written  and  partly  ex 
tempore,  and  his  tribute  to  the  broad-minded  and  noble 
generosity  of  Rev.  Dr.  Hoffman  was  worthy  of  preserva- 
tion ;  it  was  at  the  time  a  source  of  regret  that  it  could 
not  be  reproduced.  Now  I  would  give  a  great  deal  if  I 
had  it  on  permanent  record. 

At  the  opening  exercises.  Rev.  Dr.  Pinckney,  Hon. 
John  F.  Ficken,  the  Maj^or  of  Charleston,  the  Hon.  W.  A. 
Courtenay,  ex-Mayor,  who  is  also  one  of  the  trustees  of 
the  Academy,  with  Hon.  Augustine  F.  Smythe,  State 
Senator,  made  addresses  ;  and  each  offered  a  warm  trib- 
ute to  the  generous  donor.  This  building  cost  $7500, 
and  Doctor  Hoffman  gave  me  his  check  for  it.  It  has 
been  much  used  by  the  cadets,  and  has  been  a  great  bene- 
faction to  this  Academy.  In  the  winter  of  1895,  the 
Doctor  and  Mrs.  Hoffman,  and  their  daughter,  Mrs. 
Rhodewald,  and  her  husband,  paid  us  a  visit.  Doctor 
Hoffman  expressed  great  pleasure  at  all  he  saw  here,  and 
kindly  gave  me  one  thousand  dollars  to  help  in  cur- 
rent expenses.  During  the  winter  of  1896,  Doctor  Hoff- 
man invited  me  to  visit  him  at  the  Jekyl  Island  Club,  and 
introduced  me  to  many  persons  of  wealth,  some  few  of 


The  Late  Dr.  Charles  Frederick  Hoffman.    435 

whom  were  kind  enough  to  take  an  interest  in  the  school. 
Mrs.  Wm.  Rockefeller  gave  me  $500,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Frederick  Baker  $225,  Mrs.  I^arz  Anderson  $100,  Mr. 
Scrymser  $100,  Miss  Lake  $50.  Doctor  Hoffman  had  also 
in  the  summer  of  1895,  invited  me  to  visit  him  at  Elberon, 
where  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bodine,  rector,  invited  me  to  tell  my 
story,  and  $660  was  the  result. 

In  August,  1896,  Doctor  Hoffman  was  to  preach  the 
Commencement  sermon  at  the  University  of  the  South,  at 
Sewanee,  and  he  kindly  invited  me  to  go  with  his  party 
in  his  private  car.  It  was  a  fearfully  hot  spell,  and  I 
fear  he  never  fully  recovered  from  the  fatigue  of  that 
journey.  It  was  at  his  suggestion  that  this  biography  is 
written,  and  he  saw  all  the  sheets  to  the  year  1882,  and 
it  met  with  his  approval.  He  took  my  manuscript  with 
him  to  Jekyl  Island,  where  it  was  found  in  his  trunk. 
Thus,  from  the  day  of  my  acquaintance  with  him  until 
his  death  he  was  my  friend,  helping  me  himself,  and  try- 
ing to  put  me  in  the  way  of  making  friends.  The  tele- 
gram announcing  his  death  gave  me  a  great  shock.  Of 
course  I  went  on  to  New  York  to  be  with  my  dear 
friends  in  their  sorrow,  and  on  my  return,  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing article,  which  was  published  in  the  Charleston 
News  and  Courie?%  on  the  i6th  of  March,  1897  : 

**  The  Rev.  Charles  Frederick  Hoffman,  D.D.,  LL.D., 
D.C.L.,  rector  of  All  Angels  Church,  New  York,  died 
suddenly  at  Jekyl  Island,  Georgia,  on  the  4th  of  March, 
and  the  funeral  services  were  held  at  All  Angels  Church, 
on  the  8th.  It  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  witness  many 
high  ecclesiastical  functions  at  Rome,  in  Cologne,  in 
Paris,  and  in  London,  but  I  have  never  been  so  impressed 
by  a  service  as  I  was  on  this  occasion.  Forty-eight 
clergymen,  including  a  Bishop,  with  all  the  professors  of 
the  General  Theological  Seminary,  proceeded  from  the 
vestry,  the  choir  singing  a  hymn,  down  the  north  aisle  to 


43  6  Led  On  I 

the  front  door,  where  the  casket  was  met,  borne  on  the 
shoulders  of  eight  men,  preceded  by  the  full  vestry,  and 
followed  by  the  famil}^  and  friends.  The  choir  passed  on 
to  their  stalls,  while  Dr.  B.  N.  Potter  read  the  introduc- 
tory sentences.  The  casket  was  placed  in  the  choir  be- 
tween the  stalls,  the  head  to  the  altar.  There  was  a  large 
cross  presented  by  the  vestry,  of  most  expensive  white 
rosebuds,  placed  at  the  head  of  the  casket.  The  Easter 
hangings  were  in  place,  and  the  whole  chancel  was  a 
magnificent  display  of  costly  flowers,  all  the  special  offer- 
ings of  friends.  The  serv^ice  then  began.  It  seemed  a 
great  Easter  festival.  It  was  more  like  a  marriage-feast 
than  a  funeral.  I  read  the  lesson,  and  this  was  followed 
by  the  office  of  the  Holy  Communion,  Bishop  Doane  being 
the  celebrant,  and  the  thought  that  the  spirit  of  the  de- 
parted must  be  there  I  found  was  common  to  many.  A 
gentleman  remarked  afterwards  :  '  Is  that  what  you 
Episcopalians  call  sadness  ?  Why,  it  is  triumphant.  I 
was  taken  nearer  Heaven  than  I  ever  was  before.'  I 
mention  this  to  show  the  teaching  power  of  a  ritual,  in- 
telligently and  effectively  rendered.  From  first  to  last  it 
proclaimed  that  Christians  believe  what  they  profess,  and 
that  they  do  not  sorrow  as  those  without  hope.  The 
students  of  the  Theological  Seminary  attended  in  a  body. 
Some  forty  clergy  were  in  the  body  of  the  church,  and  the 
very  large  and  splendid  building  was  filled  to  its  utmost 
capacity.  No  bishop,  prince,  or  potentate  was  ever  buried 
with  more  evidence  of  respect  and  regard,  and  with  a 
more  general  manifestation  of  intense  feeling,  than  was  the 
revered  rector  of  All  Angels  Church.  There  was  noth- 
ing perfunctory  about  it,  but  all  a  heart  service.  The 
tenor,  Mr.  Williams,  who  sings  in  opera  (and  such  a 
voice  as  he  has  ! )  voluntarily  cancelled  engagements  in 
Pittsburg  to  come  and  sing  at  the  funeral  of  one  who  had 
been  a  friend  and  benefactor.     I  know  nothing  of  Doctor 


The  Late  Dr.  CJiarles  Frederick  Hoffman.     437 

Hoffman's  fortune;  he  was  accounted  a  man  of  very  great 
wealth,  but  it  was  for  the  man,  not  his  money,  that  this 
tribute  was  given.  He  possessed  a  singularly  sensitive 
nature,  with  warm  and  tender  sympathies,  and  though  his 
public  benefactions  were  large,  it  was  in  the  dail}^  and 
private  ministrations,  to  the  poor  and  suffering  that  he 
won  and  kept  many  warm  hearts  near  him.  While  a  man 
of  extraordinary  business  capacity,  his  heart  w^as  in  the 
welfare  of  the  Church.  Keenly  alive  to  the  necessity  of 
education,  his  larger  gifts,  outside  of  building  All  Angels 
Church,  were  connected  with  colleges  and  schools.  He 
had  a  natural  gift  and  great  fondness  for  architecture,  and 
had  much  to  do  with  the  designs  of  all  the  buildings  he 
erected. 

' '  The  reason  why  I  ask  the  publication  of  this  tribute 
to  a  clergyman  of  New  York  in  your  paper,  is  this.  His 
politics  were  not  in  accord  with  the  South,  but  his  religion 
extended  over  the  whole  land.  Broad  and  catholic  in  his 
feelings,  his  generosity  was  not  confined  to  the  institutions 
at  the  North,  and  in  this  city  there  stands,  in  the  grounds 
of  the  Porter  Military  Academy,  a  unique  library  building 
as  a  perpetual  monument  to  his  generosity.  The  erection 
of  that  building  was  a  voluntary  act  ;  it  was  not  suggested 
or  asked  for  by  me.  In  talking  about  the  work  here,  with 
which  he  was  familiar,  he  remarked:  '  Such  an  institution 
ought  to  have  a  library  building,  and  if  you  wish  one,  I 
will  pay  for  it.'  Nor  was  this  all.  The  papers  have  pub- 
lished, and  it  has  not  been  contradicted,  that  just  previous 
to  his  death,  he  gave  to  the  University  of  the  South,  at 
Sewanee,  forty  thousand  dollars,  for  the  erection  of  a  large 
dormitory.  But  Doctor  Hoffman's  largeness  of  heart  did 
not  stop  there  ;  he  fully  realized  that  the  South  had  to 
deal  with  a  difficult,  and  as  yet  unsolved,  problem  ;  and 
that  the  great  mass  of  negroes  within  the  borders  of  the 
Southern  land,  unless  fitted  for  citizenship  by  a  Christian 


438  Led  On  ! 

education,  are  a  perpetual  menace  ;  and  to  do  his  share 
towards  elevating  them  in  the  scale  of  being,  he  built  at 
Nashville,  Tennessee,  a  hall  for  colored  theological  stu- 
dents, and  at  Lexington,  Virginia,  a  large  schoolhouse 
and  home  for  colored  children.  Thus  he  has  shown  his 
interest  in  and  regard  for  whites  and  blacks,  for  the  North 
and  for  the  South.  He  was  an  omnivorous  reader,  and 
one  of  the  most  laborious  w^orkers  I  ever  met  with.  For 
many  years,  conscious  of  a  weakness  of  his  heart,  he  did 
not  spare  himself  by  night  nor  by  day.  When  those  who 
are  the  stewards  of  w^ealth  use  it  so  wisely  and  well,  it  is  a 
blessing  to  the  world  that  some  have  riches.  The  sweetest 
memory  treasured  by  those  he  has  left  behind,  is  the  un- 
failing benevolence  and  generosity  of  his  unselfish  life. 
The  record  of  such  a  life  is  an  incentive  to  all  to  do  what 
they  can  while  they  live  for  their  Saviour's  honor,  and 
the  welfare  of  those  for  whom  He  died. 

'*  A.  TooMER  Porte:r." 

It  is  all  over  now,  and  only  memory  is  left.  We  shall 
meet  again  on  the  other  shore,  and  I  know  that  the  joys 
of  Paradise  are  intensified  by  the  memory  of  the  good  use 
we  made  of  time  and  its  opportunities.  I  trust  my  deat 
friend  has  not  found  that  his  interest  in  me  and  my  work 
was  misplaced.  On  my  return  from  New  York,  I  found 
a  kind  note  from  Mr.  Frederick  Baker  inviting  me  to 
preach  at  Jekyl  Island.  I  went,  and  he  and  his  wife  and 
Miss  Lake  again  assisted  me ;  Mr.  Anderson,  Mr.  Scrymser, 
and  Mr.  Charles  F.  Stickney,  to  the  amount,  in  all,  of  six 
hundred  dollars.  The  Very  Rev.  K.  A.  Hoffman,  the 
Dean  of  the  Seminary,  sent  me  from  New  York  one  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  all  of  this  has  been  an  immense  help  in 
a  time  of  desperate  extremity. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

TKSTIMONIES  TO  MY  LIFE'S  WORK 

This  chapter  contains  letters  from  ex-Governor  Chamber- 
lain and  Mr.  Charles  Cowley,  testifyi7ig  to  the  value  of 
my  lifes  work — I  receive  also  a  kind  note  containing  an 
invitatio7i  from  McQueen — I  hear  also  from  his  daughter. 


I  AM  sometimes  afraid  that  the  readers  of  this  book  will 
feel  some  hesitancy  in  accepting  many  of  its  incidents, 
for  they  are  very  marvellous,  even  to  myself.  The  acci- 
dental finding  of  my  diary,  kept  from  1862  to  1875,  which 
confirmed  all  that  I  had  written  from  memory  ;  and  from 
manuscripts,  has  within  a  few  days  had  added  to  its  testi- 
mony the  following  letters.  I  have  now  been  rector  of  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Communion  for  forty-three  j^ears,  and 
on  the  8th  of  January,  1897,  preached  an  anniversary 
sermon  which  was  published  in  the  Charleston  News  and 
Courier^  was  seen  by  Governor  Chamberlain,  and  was  sent 
to  Mr.  Charles  Cowley  by  someone  in  this  city.  Ex- 
Governor  Chamberlain  is  himself  a  distinguished  his- 
torical character.  I  always  admired  his  undoubted  ability. 
I  was  one  of  those  who  gave  him  every  credit  for  honesty 
of  purpose  during  the  trying  days  in  which  he  figured  in 
the  history  of  South  Carolina.  I  always  treated  him  with 
courtesy,  but  our  intercourse  was  only  casual.     All  of 

439 


440  L^d  On  I 

I  ■■'-■■        ■   ■      ■  — — ^ — — - 

which  makes  his  letter  the  more  gratifying,  while  I  do 
not  feel  in  anywise  worthy  of  the  high  encomium. 

"  Law  Office  of  Daniei,  H.  Chambfri^ain, 
•'  40  AND  42  WalIv  St.,  New  York,  January  11,  1897. 

"  Dear  Dr.  Porter  : 

* '  I  have  read — I  could  not  find  time  to  do  it  sooner — 
your  address  on  the  coming  of  the  forty-third  anniversary 
of  your  work  in  Charleston.  Will  you  permit  an  absen- 
tee, and  mere  looker-on,  by  his  recognition  of  your  great 
work,  to  help  make  up  for  the  short-comings  of  some  of 
those  whom  you  describe  as  so  unsympathetic,  in  Charles- 
ton ?  I  heard  an  eminent  Charlestonian,  known  to  good 
fame  far  outside  of  Charleston,  say  in  1885,  and  I  will  give 
his  remarks  verbatim  :  '  Toomer  Porter  is  a  statesman, 
yes,  sir,  a  statesman,  as  well  as  a  clergyman,  and  if  the 
care  of  all  South  Carolina  could  have  been  given  to  him 
in  1867,  her  political,  educational,  industrial,  and  racial 
interests  would  have  been  advanced  three  hundred  per 
cent,  above  what  the\'  are  now.'  I  venture  to  use  a  slang 
phrase  to  one  of  3^our  cloth,  and  say,  '  Put  that  in  your 
pipe,  and  smoke  it  ! '  Seriously,  my  dear  Doctor,  when 
despondency  overtakes  3'ou,  or  ingratitude  and  indifference 
afflict  you,  comfort  yourself  with  the  knowledge  that  this 
man  said,  what  ver>^  many  others  have  thought,  and  now 
think.  I  must  not  preach  to  a  preacher,  but  if  I  could,  I 
would  say  :  Be  sure  no  good  work  you  have  done  in 
Charleston  will  perish  without  bearing  good  fruit.  The 
moral  world  is  so  constituted,  that  goodness  is  blessed, 
like  charity  in  Shakespeare,  *  twice  blessed, '  blessing  him 
that  does  and  him  that  receives.  I  have  profound  respect 
for  your  achievements,  and  I  sincerely  hope  this  word  will 
be  pleasant  to  you  to  read. 

**  Sincerely  yours, 

"  D.  H.  Chamberlain." 


Testimonies  to  My  Lifes  Work.  441 

Ten  days  after  this  I  received  the  following  letter  : 

'Lowei^i,,  Mass.,  January  22,  1897. 

"  Dear  Sir  : 

*'  Thirty- two  years  ago,  w^hile  in  Charleston,  attached 
to  the  staff  of  Rear- Admiral  Dahlgren,  I  read  with  much 
satisfaction  the  Charleston  Courier' s  report  of  j^our  sermon, 
on  your  return  to  Charleston.  It  was  a  genuine  sursuvi 
corda.  I  am  sorry  I  saved  no  copy  of  that  report.  In  188 1 , 
midway  between  that  especial  sermon  and  now,  I  had  the 
pleasure  to  meet  you  at  the  arsenal,  and  I  cherish  the 
recollection  of  that  visit  very  much.  Is  the  Institute 
still  at  the  arsenal  ?  Recently,  while  recovering  from  la 
grippe^  I  found  among  the  newspapers  which  a  friend 
brought  in  to  me,  the  copies  of  the  News  and  Courier  con- 
taining your  appeal  in  behalf  of  the  Porter  Military  Acad- 
emy, and  your  forty- third  anniversary  sermon,  and  I  read 
them  both  with  ver}"  great  interest.  You  have  indeed 
fought  a  good  fight,  and  I  hope  you  will  continue  until 
you  are  fourscore.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  should  have 
cause  for  discouragement  ;  you  cannot  fail  to  be  recognized 
as  one  of  the  benefactors  of  the  Africans,  and  of  yonx 
country.  I  wish  I  had  the  means  to  aid  in  endowing 
your  Institute.  Please  send  me  a  copy  of  your  forty-third 
anniversary  sermon  ;  if  you  send  me  a  half-dozen  copies 
of  that  sermon,  I  will  place  them  well.  I  am  still  at  work 
on  the  Siege  of  Charleston. 

* '  Sincerel}^  yours, 

'*  Charles  Cowley." 

Of  course  I  sent  the  sermons.  Perhaps,  in  God's  provi- 
dence, they  may  bring  some  fruit,  like  Miss  Waterman's 
pamphlet.  I  have  no  recollection  of  Mr.  Cowley's  visit, 
nor  can  I  trace  any  acquaintance  with  him.  The  sermon 
he  refers  to  of  thirty-two  years  ago  was  the  one  I  preached 


442  Led  Oil  / 


on  the  4th  June,  1865:  "Set  your  house  in  order."     In 
reply  to  my  letter  to  him  I  received  the  following  : 

•*  LowEivi.,  Mass.,  February  4,  1897. 
'*  My  dear  Sir  : 

**  Yours  of  the  25th  ulto.  was  duly  received.  I  am  glad 
you  are  writing  your  autobiography  ;  it  will  be  valuable 
now,  and  still  more  valuable  half  a  century  hence.  What 
a  host  of  memories  it  will  preserve ;  what  a  multitude  of 
topics  will  sweep  within  your  ken  !  I^et  your  readers  know 
how,  in  the  case  of  the  Federal  ofl&cers  imprisoned  within 
range  of  the  Federal  artillery,  you  remembered  who  said, 
*  I  was  in  prison,  and  you  came  to  Me.'  Let  them  know, 
too,  how,  instead  of  wasting  your  life  in  vain  regrets  for 
the  lost  cause,  you  returned  to  Charleston,  took  the  oath 
of  allegiance,  and  set  your  house  in  order,  and  urged 
others  to  do  likewise.  I  recall  the  joy  with  which  I  read 
the  Courier's  report  of  that  sermon.  I  said  at  once,  though 
I  had  never  heard  of  you  before  :  *  Here  is  a  Southern 
man,  a  clergyman  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  capable  of 
rising  above  his  party  and  above  sectional  prejudice,  and 
of  seeing,  and  saying,  there  is  a  great  future  before  the 
South.  Men  who  would  not  come  to  Fort  Sumter  to  hear 
Beecher,  will  hear  him,  and  adjust  themselves  to  the  new 
situation.'  The  first  Sunday  in  June,  1865,  was  the  4th 
day  of  the  month,  a  day  never  to  be  forgotten  in  any  his- 
tory of  Charleston.  May  you  live  to  see  many  returns  of 
that  day ;  although  you  have  lost  that  sermon,  j^ou  have 
not  lost  the  great  message  which  it  contained.  It  was  in 
advance  of  the  times,  and  might  have  been  unheeded,  if 
it  had  not  come  from  a  Southern  man.  Your  autobiog- 
raphy will  afford  j^ou  a  fine  opportunity  to  relate  the  story 
of  the  earthquake,  and  of  the  cj^clone,  and  of  the  generous 
aid  supplied  from  the  North.     Sincerely  yours, 

*'  Chari<es  Cowi^Ey," 


Testimonies  to  My  Lifes  Work.  443 

With  this  evidence  will  anyone  think  I  have  exagger- 
ated ?  This  letter  is  from  one  who  was  on  the  stafif  of  Rear- 
Admiral  Dahlgren  in  1865.  The  following  was  a  cheering 
incident  of  the  day  loth  February,  1897  :  I  had  written 
to  my  dear  friend,  Charles  Frederick  Hoffman,  Jr.,  how 
w^orried  I  was,  and  received  a  telegram  to-day  from  him, 
telling  me  to  draw  on  him  for  one  hundred  dollars.  God 
bless  him  !  There  are  some  striking  instances  right  now, 
which  encourage  me  to  hope  that  the  good  and  gracious 
Father  is  working  some  agencies  to  help  me  in  my  de- 
clining days.  I  finished  the  above  last  night,  February 
10,  1897,  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  to-day,  the  nth,  the  mail 
brought  me  a  kind  letter  from  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine,  of 
Boston,  with  a  check  for  one  hundred  dollars,  which 
amount  he  has  been  sending,  unreminded,  every  February 
for  many  years ;  and  by  same  mail  also  a  letter  from  Lieut. 
John  A.  McQueen,  from  Elgin,  Kane  County,  Illinois.  I 
have  not  heard  of  him,  or  from  him,  in  ten  years.  I 
feared  he  was  dead.     Here  is  the  letter  : 


"  Ei*GlN,  February  8,  1897. 

My  dkar  Friend  : 

Can  you  come  to  Washington,  D.  C,  about  March  2 
to  4?  General  Howard  wall  be  there.  I  would  be  de- 
lighted to  see  you.  My  address  will  be,  to  the  care  of  D. 
P.  McCormack,  First  Auditor's  Office,  Treasury  Depart- 
ment, Washington,  D.  C. 

"Yours  faithfully, 

*'  John  A.  McQueen." 


But  stranger  still,  the  same  mail  brought  me  a  postal 
card  from  his  daughter,  whom  I  had  never  seen  since  she 
was  a  little  girl,  w^hen  I  went  to  Elgin  to  see  her  father, 
sometime  in  the  early  seventies.     The  card  is  as  follows  : 


444  Led  On  I 

"  BEI.OIT,  Wisconsin,  February  8,  1897. 
"  My  vkry  dear  Dr.  Porter  : 

"  Some  people  in  Beloit  have  been  reading  your  book, 
A  Work  of  Faith  and  Love  (which  I  have  loaned  them) 
and  have  been  asking  me  regarding  your  institution.  I 
was  ashamed  to  confess  that  I  did  not  know  what  your 
school  was  doing  now,  so  I  would  be  much  pleased  if  you 
would  send  me  a  copy  of  your  catalogue  (or  several  if  you 
will),  in  order  that  I  may  bring  the  story  up  to  date.  My 
father,  I^ieut.  J.  A.  McQueen,  would  send  his  kindest  re- 
gards if  he  were  here,  as  he  often  speaks  lovingly  of  you. 

Very  sincerely, 

Alice  F.  McQueen, 
918  Bushnell  Street." 


V  Ci^ 

(( 


Let  anyone  put  these  four  letters,  Governor  Chamber- 
lain's, Mr.  Cowley's,  Lieutenant  McQueen's,  and  his 
daughter's,  from  New  York  ;  Lowell,  Massachusetts  ; 
Elgin,  Illinois  ;  Beloit,  Wisconsin  ;  neither  of  which 
writers  knew  each  other,  save  the  father  and  daughter, 
neither  of  whom  have  I  communicated  with, — and  can- 
didly say,  Is  it  all  coincidence  or  chance,  or  is  it  not  sent 
to  animate  my  faith,  and  cheer  my  heart  ?  Will  anyone 
say,  **  But  yoM  need  monej^  and  there  is  no  money  in  any 
of  these  "  ?  That  is  so,  but  who  knows  how  God  is  work- 
ing ?     I  wait,  and  watch,  and  pray. 


CHAPTER  XI.VIII 

THS  academy's  thirty-first  ykar 

Twenty-five  of  our  cadets  graduated — /  am  stricken  with 
sickiiess  —A  parish  rectorship  of  forty -four  years  is  closed 
—  This  book  intefided  to  magnify  the  grace  of  God — 
Farewell. 


THE  thirtieth  term  of  the  Porter  Military  Academy 
closed  on  the  24th  of  June,  1897,  ^^^  twenty-five 
cadets  were  graduated.  Five  of  them,  through  the  gener- 
osity of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jones  of  Hobart  College,  were  re- 
ceived in  September,  and  are  now  there  with  three  who 
are  not  far  from  graduation.  One  was  admitted  on  a 
scholarship  at  Union  College,  Schenectady,  and  one  of 
my  boys  is  at  St.  Stephen's,  through  the  generosity  of  the 
late  Dr.  Hoffman  ;  one  went  to  Sewanee  and  two  to  the 
South  Carolina  College.  I  have  sent  to  West  Point, 
to  Annapolis,  and  to  various  colleges,  two  hundred 
and  eighty  young  men,  during  these  years,  principally  to 
colleges  at  the  North,  where  scholarships  have  been  gener- 
ously given  me.  I  think  it  an  advantage  that  our  South- 
ern youths  shall  come  in  contact  with  broader  views,  than 
they  would  if  they  live,  and  are  educated  in  the  surround- 
ings of  their  birthplace.  I  wish  that  Northern  youths 
would  change  about,  and  some  of  them  come  South  :  each 
would  find  that  all  virtue,  and  all  wisdom,  was  not  confined 

445 


44^  Led  Oil  I 

to  either  section.  The  summer  of  1897  passed  with 
the  usual  large  application  to  me  to  admit  many  bene- 
ficiaries, while  as  usual,  the  pay-roll  was  comparatively 
small.  I  consented  to  take  as  many  as  I  thought  it  pru- 
dent, but  refused  the  applications  of  over  one  hundred. 
With  all  this  work  done,  with  this  great  plant  in  posses- 
sion, and  no  certain  income,  I  only  owe  for  all  the  past 
six  hundred  dollars.  I  was  in  Asheville,  North  Carolina, 
and  every  preparation  made  to  return  to  Charleston  on  the 
28th  of  September,  when,  on  the  27th,  without  one  indica- 
tion, or  a  moment's  warning,  I  was  suddenly  seized  with 
a  severe  hemorrhage.  An  attack  precisely  similar  to  the 
one  I  had  twenty-two  years  ago,  and  the  doctors  said,  just 
as  Dr.  Sir  Andrew  Clark  had  done,  it  was  from  imper- 
fect action  of  the  heart.  I  was  brought  to  Charleston  on 
the  6th  of  October  and  was  for  a  month  extremely  sick. 
The  school  was  opened  on  the  first  of  October  and  in  full 
operation  ;  r^y  son,  Rev.  Theodore  A.  Porter,  with  able 
assistants,  doing  the  duties  of  the  school,  and  he  carried  on 
the  services  of  the  church.  For  a  long  while  my  physi- 
cians have  been  telling  me  I  was  overw^orked,  and  over- 
strained, so  now  they  emphatically  said,  if  I  desired  to  live 
and  still  to  work,  I  must  give  up  some  of  my  duties,  either 
the  church,  or  the  school,  and  after  consultation  with  the 
Bishop,  and  much  prayer,  I  determined  that  of  the  two, 
the  parish  could  spare  me  best.  I  therefore  sent  my  letter 
of  resignation  to  the  vestry,  to  take  effect  on  the  8th  of 
Januarj^  1898,  and  on  Sunday  the  9th,  preached  my  fare- 
well sermon,  after  a  rectorship  of  forty-four  years,  during 
which  I  built  the  church  and  enlarged  it  three  times, 
finished  St.  Mark's  Church  for  colored  people,  and  St. 
Timothy's  Chapel  on  the  grounds  of  the  Academy. 

So  my  autobiography  ends  with  the  closing  of  that 
chapter  of  my  life.  God  in  gracious  mercy  has  raised  me 
up  again,  and  has  restored  my  strength,  so  that  I  am  now 


The  Academy  s  Thirty-First  Year,        447 

enabled  to  give  my  time  and  thoughts  to  this  g^eat  edu- 
cational work.  In  writing  this  book,  and  presuming  to 
tell  to  the  public  the  story  of  my  life,  listening  to  the  sug- 
gestions, and  complying  with  the  wish  of  that  good  friend 
Dr.  C.  F.  Hoffman,  the  motive  has  been  to  magnify  the 
grace  of  God  ;  to  show  "  His  strength  to  this  generation, 
and  His  power  to  them  that  are  yet  to  come."  I  will 
attain  to  seventy  years,  31st  January,  1898. 

Of  course  I  do  not  know  what  the  future  has  in  store, 
or  what  use  God  may  still  have  for  me,  what  I  will  be 
permitted  to  do.  That  which  is  now  upon  me  is,  as  it 
has  been  for  thirty  years,  one  of  faith,  and  struggle,  and 
anxiety.  I  earnestly  pray  that  it  may  commend  itself  to 
the  generous  hearts  of  many :  that  it  may  be  sustained  by 
willing  contributions,  and  that  it  may  please  God  to  put 
in  the  hearts  of  some  of  His  people  to  so  endow  it,  that  its 
future  may  be  secured. 

And  now  I  say  farewell  to  my  readers,  praying  that 
each  may  know  the  comfort,  and  peace,  that  come  from  a 
loving  trust  in  God,  and  a  firm  faith  in  His  providential 
care. 


APPENDIX  A 


To  the  Editor  of  the  ' '  News  and  Courier ' '  .• 

On  the  morning  of  the  7th  of  November,  i860,  I  was 
informed  by  Corporal  Finley  of  my  squad,  that  I  was  de- 
tailed as  one  of  twenty  picked  men  to  capture  the  Charles- 
ton Arsenal.  Not  feeling  particularly  warlike  at  that 
time,  and  fully  believing  what  our  leaders  told  us,  that 
there  would  be  no  war  because  it  was  unconstitutional, 
and  that  it  would  be  merely  a  peaceable  secession,  I  sug- 
gested that  it  might  be  taken  as  an  overt  act,  and  might 
lead  to  unpleasant  consequences  ;  besides,  I  had  an  en- 
gagement to  walk  with  a  young  lady  that  afternoon,  and 
it  would  be  awkward  for  me  to  get  off,  and  begged  to  get 
the  Captain  to  pick  over.  But  my  appeals  were  in  vain. 
"  Duty,"  said  the  Corporal,  "  calls  you  to  do  or  die,"  and 
I  did.  Rushing  to  mj^  friends  I  informed  them  of  the 
compliment  paid  to  my  desperate  courage,  and  my  sol- 
dierly qualities.  I  borrowed  from  them  everything  they 
had  in  the  way  of  weapons,  and  a  pocket-flask.  I  was 
presented  with  a  beautiful  scarf  as  a  tribute  from  ' '  virtue 
to  valor"  by  the  "  girl  I  left  behind  me,"  and  by  my 
mother  with  an  umbrella,  in  case  of  rain — for  the  night 
looked  threatening.  Then  bidding  farewell  to  my  sisters, 
and  my  cousins,  and  my  aunts,  who  were  not  as  much  dis- 
tressed as  I  thought  they  should  be  under  the  circum- 
stances, I  buckled  on  my  armor,  composed  of  three  large 
^nd   one  small   revolver,    State    rifle,    bowie-knife,    and 

449 


450  Led  On  ! 


bayonet,  over  the  majestic  uniform  of  the  Washington 
Light  Infantry.  I  thought  of  the  Leopard  and  Chesa- 
peake ;  the  winter  at  Valley  Forge.  I  repeated  ' '  The 
Soldier's  Grave,"  "  'Tis  sweet  to  die  for  one's  country  " 
(as  those  who  have  never  tried  it  say),  "  Freedom's 
battle  once  begun"  (was  there  use  in  beginning  it?), 
* '  What  perils  do  environ  "  ;  I  felt  the  force  of  every  line 
and  they  weighed  upon  my  spirits  as  heavily  as  my  arma- 
ment on  my  spine. 

Thus  dressed  to  kill  I  repaired  to  the  rendezvous,  Mr. 
Porter's  church,  Ashley  Street,  stopping  on  the  way  two 
or  three  times  to  bid  good-bye,  and  realize  that  drinking 
is  the  "  soldier's  pleasure."  There  we  met  under  the 
pale  light  of  the  moon  a  little  before  the  last  bell  rang. 
Never  shall  I  forget  the  solemnity  of  the  scene  ;  the  awful 
stillness  so  unlike  a  Fourth  of  July  parade  ;  the  church — 
the  place  for  a  graveyard,  perhaps  for  us — no  music,  no 
toasts,  no  health-drinking,  nothing  but  the  suppressed 
breathing  of  the  twenty  picked  men  as  they  sat  upon  Mr. 
Porter's  church  doorsteps,  waiting  for  the  order,  "Fall  in." 
Soon  this  was  given,  "  according  to  height."  Now  this 
amendment  put  me  uncomfortably  near  the  front  line,  so 
I  moved  that  we  go  "  left  in  front, "  if  I  could  not  be  left 
behind.  This  motion,  with  a  few  very  appropriate  re- 
marks by  the  tallest  man  of  the  picked  twenty,  was  feel- 
ingly put  by  the  lyieutenant  in  command  of  the  squad. 
The  short  ones  were  too  many  for  us,  and  I  stood  as  "  I 
was,"  thinking  of  home  and  the  vacant  chair,  and  of 
Her;  and  so  I  was  wondering  if  she  was  thinking  of  me, 
and  if  she  would  like  to  be  a  man,  and,  if  she  were  a  man, 
if  she  would  exchange  places  with  me ;  and  so  I  was  think- 
ing, when  the  Lieutenant  said,  ' '  Soldiers  !  in  obedience  to 
the  call  of  our  country,  our  duty,  and  our  Captain,  we 
meet,  ready,  I  see  by  your  countenances,  to  rush  through 
the  imminent  breach,  or  mount  the  tottering  wall.     Re- 


Appendix  A.  451 


member  Leonidas  and  his  Spartan  few.  Remember  to 
preserve — i.  Silence  in  ranks  !  "  he  abruptly  said,  to  stop 
one  of  the  picked,  who  was  telling  the  squad  how  his 
grandfather  had  told  him  how  soldiers  had  been  shot 
crossing  the  streets  in  Mexico,  which  was  having  a  de- 
moralizing effect.  "  Reinforcements,"  the  Lieutenant 
continued,  "  if  required,  will  be  sent  to  us.  They  are,  or 
are  supposed  to  be,  holding  themselves  in  readiness  at  the 
Military  Hall." 

One  of  us  asked,  how  many  men  w^ere  there  at  the 
arsenal  ?  ' '  Twenty, ' '  he  replied ; ' '  counting  the  w^omen. ' ' 
I  could  no  longer  keep  quiet,  and  falling  back  on  the  re- 
served right  of  every  citizen  of  this  great  and  glorious 
country,  viz.,  the  right  of  speech,  I  asked  if  our  country 
and  our  Captain  thought  it  a  fair  fight,  and  if  our  duty 
compelled  us,  in  our  present  state  of  training,  to  meet  the 
forces  of  the  United  States.  Why  not  bring  up  the  rein- 
forcements and  make  victory  certain  ?  why  not  let  me  go 
for  the  Fourth  Brigade  ?  I  was  willing  to  volunteer  to  go 
on  that  volunteer  hope.  Here  the  fellow  who  told  what 
his  grandfather  had  told  him  about  shooting  soldiers  in 
the  streets  of  Mexico  said,  his  grandfather  told  him  that 
when  he  was  in  the  Florida  war,  they  always  sent  two 
men  or  more  to  carry  despatches,  in  the  case  one  got 
killed,  and  he  volunteered  to  go  wdth  me,  and  so  did  all  of 
them.  As  this  would  have  broken  up  the  storming  party, 
the  Lieutenant  determined  not  to  send  for  reinforcements. 
Another  fellow  proposed  that  we  send  to  the  arsenal  to 
see  if  they  were  at  home  before  we  called,  but  the  Lieu- 
tenant said  that  was  not  military  ;  and  off  to  the  arsenal 
gate  we  marched,  and  there  we  halted,  pinked,  ordered 
arms,  and  rested ;  and  there  the  Lieutenant  congratulated 
us  on  our  steadiness  in  marching,  and  the  quickness  of  the 
march.  ' '  For, ' '  said  he,  '  *  we  reached  here  before  the  gate 
was  shut  for  the  night,  otherwise  we  would  have  been 


452  Led  On  I 

forced  to  escalade  the  fence, ' '  which  is  very  dangerous  over 
sharp-pointed  fences,  and  he  did  not  know  whether  there 
was  a  dog  inside  or  not.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  we 
marched  in  through  the  gateway,  with  heads  erect ;  up  to 
this  time  the  picked  had  been  hanging  their  heads  down, 
to  reduce  their  height,  and  dodge  shot  if  necessary,  and 
with  no  foeman's  steel  to  bar  our  way,  I  felt  now  ' '  Dulce  ei 
decorum  est  pro  patria  inori.^^  Marching  up  the  pathway 
a  brother  soldier  said  to  me,  "  You  see  anything  your 
side?"  Looking  ahead,  I  saw  a  field-piece  with  three 
men  near  it.  "  One  on  my  right  saw  two,"  he  said, 
*  *  pointing  right  at  us. ' '  Dulce  et  decorum  left  me.  *  *  Have 
they  arms  ?  "  "  Two  of  them  have, ' '  I  replied  ;  * '  but 
the  third  has  but  one. ' '  I  have  since  heard  he  lost  an 
arm  in  Mexico. 

He  whispered  to  me,  *  *  It  is  an  ambush  ' ' ;  and  while  ex- 
plaining to  me — he  was  an  ex-officer  of  the  Beat — what  an 
ambush  was,  we  marched  past  the  guns  and  the  men  up 
into  the  very  centre  of  the  arsenal,  and  stacked  our  guns 
in  the  barracks  of  the  arsenal,  in  the  building  once  used 
as  a  church  by  our  chaplain,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Porter.  We 
heard  afterwards  that  this  good  man  had  asked  the  oflicer 
in  charge  to  take  good  care  of  us.  How  much  pleasanter 
it  would  have  been  if  we  had  known  this  when  we  were 
attacking!  For  the  truth  of  history,  I  must  mention 
casualties.  My  breeches,  either  from  the  weight  of  my 
armament  or  from  my  taking  too  long  a  breath,  broke 
down  behind.  I  stuck  my  baj^onet  through  the  upper 
portion  of  the  seat  and  held  them  up.  What  might  have 
been  had  I  no  bayonet  I  would  not  like  to  tell.  The 
other  was  the  repulse  of  a  sentinel  by  a  United  States 
cow,  which  the  garrison  drove  off,  crying,  "  Remember 
Cowpens,"  and  re-established  the  Post. 

And  thus  on  the  7th  of  November,  i860,  was  the  Charles- 
ton Arsenal  captured.  Onk  who  was  thkre. 


Appendix  B.  453 


APPENDIX  B 

REPORT 


Resolved,  That  a  Board  of  Missions  to  the  colored  people 
and  freedmen  of  the  Diocese,  to  consist  of  three  clergymen 
and  three  laymen,  the  Bishop  being  ex-qffido  Chairman, 
be  elected  annually.  To  whom  the  whole  subject  of  their 
instruction  shall  be  intrusted. 

2.  Resolved,  That  this  Board  be  requested  to  take  early 
action  to  revive  and  sustain  such  missions  to  colored 
people  exclusively  as  existed  before  their  emancipation. 

3.  Resolved,  That  this  Board  do  consider  the  expediency 
of  organizing  churches  and  congregations,  consisting  in 
whole,  or  part,  of  colored  people,  under  such  regulations 
as  to  them  may  seem  advisable  and  consistent  with  the 
Constitution  and  Canons  of  the  Church  in  this  diocese. 

4.  Resolved,  That  this  Board  be  urged  to  take  early 
action  to  establish  and  maintain  parochial  schools  for  the 
secular  and  religious  instruction  of  the  colored  people  in 
our  cities,  towns,  and  parishes,  to  be  conducted  by  teachers, 
male  and  female,  of  our  own  communion,  and  under  the 
supervision  of  the  clergy  within  whose  cures  they  may 
be  established.  The  industrial  features  being  engrafted 
thereon,  whenever  practicable. 

5.  Resolved,  That  this  Board  be  authorized,  and  re- 
quested, to  search  out  and  take  by  the  hand  any  of  their 
class  who  may  be  desirous  of  preparing  for  the  sacred 
ministry  of  our  Church,  to  whose  capacity  and  moral  fit- 
ness their  pastor  may  testify,  and  to  provide  for  their 
education  and  training  at  school  or  seminary,  and  with 
the  sanction  and  approval  of  their  Bishop. 

6.  Resolved,    That  whenever  churches  or  parsonages, 

glebes,  or  other  Church  property,  in  the  several  parishes, 

are  no  longer  occupied,  or  needed  by  the  white  members 
29 


454  ^^^  ^^^  •     ' 

of  our  Church,  and  can  be  made  available  for  any  of  the 
aforesaid  objects,  the  duty  and  expediency  of  so  applying 
the  same  be  respectfully  urged  upon  the  legal  representa- 
tives of  such  churches  or  proper tj\ 

7.  Resolved,  That  this  Board  be,  and  are,  hereby  con- 
stituted trustees,  to  receive  and  disburse  any  funds  con- 
tributed for  the  objects  herein  recommended  from  within 
or  beyond  the  limits  of  the  diocese. 

8.  Resolved,  That  the  expedienc}^  be  submitted  to  the 

Board,  of  appointing  forthwith  a  missionary  agent  to  visit 

the  several  parishes  and  other  precincts  of  the  diocese 

where  the  colored  people  may  be  congregated,  to  ascertain 

their  general  condition,  wants  and  wishes,  to  collect  all 

information  pertaining  to  the  work,  to  report  from  time 

to  time  to  the  Board  or  through  some  Church  periodical, 

and  to  solicit  pecuniary  aid  within,  and  if  found  necessary 

beyond  the  diocese. 

(Signed) 

J.  Stuart  Hanckel, 

P.  F.  Stevens, 

A.  Glennie, 

G.  A.  Trenhoem, 

Wm.  C.  Bee, 

Thos.  W.  Porcher, 

Committee. 

On  motion  of  Rev.  C.  P.  Gadsden  the  Resolutions 
were  taken  up  seriatim,  and  severally  agreed  to.  The 
question  recurring  on  the  adoption  of  the  whole,  the  Re- 
port was  unanimously  adopted. 

APPENDIX   C 

DR.  porter's   appeal 

The  Rev.  A.  Toomer  Porter,  rector  of  the  Holy  Com- 
munion Church,  whom  all  Charleston  knows,  has  made 


Appendix  D.  455 


an  appeal  to  the  people  of  our  city  in  behalf  of  his  Hfe- 
work,  the  Porter  Academy.  As  Doctor  Porter  has  labored 
among  many  of  our  colored  people,  and  as  they  love  and 
esteem  him  therefor,  and  as  many  white  citizens  read 
our  paper,  and  as  Doctor  Porter's  paper  should  reach  both 
races,  the  Messeriger  takes  plensure  in  reproducing  the 
Doctor's  article  from  the  News  and  Cou?ie7%  with  the  hope 
that  our  readers  will  give  it  every  consideration  and  con- 
tribute largely  to  the  support  of  this  good  man  in  his  most 
noble  undertaking.  The  Doctor's  institution  is  a  worthy 
one,  and  he  has  labored  hard  to  keep  it  alive  and  up  to  its 
established  standard  of  excellence.  Doctor  Porter  is  a 
man  who  entertains  ver}^  broad  and  liberal  views  on  the 
subject  of  Christian  education  and  Christian  charity.  It 
was  through  his  influence  that  the  building  now  used  for 
the  Jenkins'  Orphanage  Institute  was  tendered  the  Rev. 
D.  J.  Jenkins,  which  has  been  the  means  of  furthering  the 
work  of  caring  for  orphans  and  destitute  children  of  this 
city.  We  hope,  therefore,  that  our  citizens  will  sustain 
their  reputation  for  advancing  their  educational  interests 
by  responding  unstintedly  to  Doctor  Porter's  appeal. 

APPENDIX  D 

I  hereby  place  on  record  the  names  of  those  benefactors 
since  1888,  living  and  dead,  who  for  many  years  have 
assisted  me.  Supplementing  what  has  been  paid  by  the 
pupils  of  the  school,  their  aid  has  enabled  me  to  do  this 
work.  I  here  place  on  record  my  grateful  thanks,  while 
I  pray  that  God,  who  loves  a  cheerful  giver,  may  restore  to 
the  living  fourfold  for  all  they  have  done  for  the  education 
of  this  host  of  boys.  I  feel  sure  that  the  joys  of  Paradise 
have  been  intensified  to  those  who  are  dead  by  the  recol- 
lection of  every  good  and  faithful  work  they  did  while 
still  in  the  flesh. 


456 


Led  On  ! 


The  following  are  the  names.  Those  marked  with  a 
star  are  dead  ;  those  previous  to  the  year  1888  have 
already  been  recorded  : 


*Coi,ONEI.  AUCHMUTY 

Mrs.  Auchmuty 
Mrs.  Wii,i,iam  Appi^eton 
Mrs.  Juwa  W.  Anderson 
Mr.  W.  Bayard  Brown 
Mrs.  W.  E.  Baylies 

*REV.  J.  BUFORD 

'^Mrs.  Dr.  BUCKI.ER  . 

Mr.  N.   G.  Bourne  . 

■'^'Mr.  Alex.  Brown  . 

Mrs.  Jane  D.  Barnum 

*Mr.  J.  M.  Brown    . 

Mrs.  N.  a.  Baldwin 

*Mr.  H.  p.  Baldwin 

Mrs.  H.  p.  Baldwin 

Mr.  W.  H.  Baldwin 

Mrs.  Emily  A.  Beebe 

Mr.  J.  PiERSON  Beebe 

Mr.  J.  Arthur  Beebe 

Mr.  Samuel  D.  Babcock 

Dr.  Blake 

Mr.  Edmund  H.  Bennett 

Miss  Anna  Blanchard 

Mrs.  Alex.  Brown  . 

Mrs.  Francis  Baker 

Mr.  Frederick  Baker 

Mr.  E.  F.  Burke 

BlR.  R.  Fulton  Cutting 

Mrs.  V.  Clark 

Mr.  William  Bayard  Cutting 

Mr.  William  P.  Clyde 

Mr.  C.  H.  Contoit    . 

Mr.  J.  M.  Comstock 

Mr.  George  F.  Crocker 

^Dr.  J.  J.  Crane 

Mrs.  E.  a.  Coxe 


New  York 

New  York 

Boston 

Cincinnati 

New  York 

New  York 

New  York 

Baltimore 

New  York 

Philadelphia 

Boston 

New  York 

New  Haven 

Detroit,  Mich. 

Detroit,  Mich. 

Baltimore 

Boston 

Boston 

Boston 

Boston 

Boston 

Taunton,  Mass. 

Philadelphia 

Philadelphia 

New  York 

New  York 

Orange,  N.  J. 

New  York 

New  York 

New  York 

New  York 

New  York 

New  York 

New  York 

New  Haven 

Philadelphia 


Appendix  D.  457 


Miss  Rebecca  Coxe Philadelphia 

Mr.  J.  W.  Coats Pawtucket 

Mrs.  H.  F,  Cunningham Boston 

Mr.  Wilwam  C.  Comstock Chicago 

Mr.  David  Clarkson New  York 

Mrs.  W.  F.  Cockran New  York 

Mr.  W1LI.IAM  E.  Dodge New  York 

*Mr.  Chari.es  D.  Dickey New  York 

Mrs.  a.  F.  Damon New  York 

Mr.  W11.1.IAM  B.  DouGivAS        ....     Rochester,  N.  Y. 

Mr.  W.  S.  Eaton Boston 

Mr.  W11.1.IAM  EndicotT,  Jr Boston 

Mrs.  M.  M.  E1.1.1SON Boston 

*Mrs.  EgglESTon      .......         Baltimore 

Mrs.  Edgar New  York 

Mrs.  M.  EdgerTon New  York 

*Mr.  Jos.  S.  Fay Boston 

Mrs.  Chari^es  Fay Boston 

Mrs.  George  S.  Fiske Boston 

Mrs.  Charlotte  M.  Fiske Boston 

Mr.  J.  C.  Fargo New  York 

Mr.  H.  C.  FaiinesTock New  York 

Mr.  F.  Morton  Fox Philadelphia 

Miss  Ewzabeth  S.  Fiske Boston 

Mrs.  K.  F.  Grey New  York 

Rev.  Mr.  Grosvenor New  York 

Mr.  James  Goodwin         .        .        .        .        .        .        New  York 

Mrs.  E.  a.  Gammeli. Providence,  R.  I. 

*Mr.  Fred.  Hubbard New  York 

*Mr.  W.  H.  HusTED New  York 

Very  Rp:v.  E.  A.  Hoffman,  D.D New  York 

*REV.  Charles  F.  Hoffman,  D.D.  .        .        .        New  York 

Mr.  C.  F.  Hoffman,  Jr New  York 

Mr.  F.  W.  Hunnewell Boston 

Rev.  W.  R.  Huntington,  D.D New  York 

Mrs.  H.  p.  Hemmenway Boston 

Mr.  Charles  Hebarjd Philadelphia 

Mr.  John  Hogg Boston 

Mrs.  Hannah  M.  Hebard Chestnut  Hill 

*Mr.  R.  J.  INGERSOLL New  York 

Mr.  Morris  K.  Jesup New  York 


458  Led  On  / 

Mrs.  Fr,ORENCE  M.  Jamison New  York 

*Mr.  John  D.  Jones New  York 

Mr.  George  Gordon  King New  York 

Mr.  John  A.  King New  York 

Mrs.  Edward  King New  York 

*Mrs.  M.  Ketei,i.as New  York 

Miss  Ai.ice  KeTei<i.as New  York 

*Mr.  LeRoy  King Newport 

Mrs.  Mary  A.  King Newport 

Miss  M.  I^eRoy  King Newport 

Miss  Edith  E.  King Newport 

*Mrs.  Susan  LeRoy Newport 

*Mr.  a.  a.  Low,  Sr. New  York 

Mr.  a.  a.  Low,  Jr New  York 

Hon.  Seth  Low,  LL.D New  York 

Mr.  W.  G.  Low New  York 

*Mr.  Robert  J.  Livingston    .....        New  York 

Mr.  Lounder New  York 

*Mr.  W.  B.  Leonard New  York 

Mr.  Chari^es  Laneau New  York 

Mrs.  Sarah  E.  Lawrence Newport 

RT.  Rev.  Wii^wam  Lawrence,  D.D        .        .        .        .      Boston 
Mr.  Amory  a.  Lawrence        .        .        .        .        .        .      Boston 

Mrs.  W.  R.  Lawrence Boston 

Miss  Susan  Lovering Boston 

Miss  Frances  E.  Lake New  York 

Miss  Ida  M.  Mason Newport 

Miss  Ei,i<En  F.  Mason Newport 

Mr.  J.  Pierpont  Morgan New  York 

*Mr.  J.  S.  Morgan London,  Eng. 

Mrs.  John  D.  Martin New  York 

Capt.  Henry  Metcai^fe New  York 

Mrs.  Edith  Edgar  McCags Newport 

Mrs.  Juwa  Merrett Rochester,  N.  Y. 

Mr.  E.  D.  Morgan Newport 

Mr.  Gordon  Norris New  York 

Mr.  Chari^es  a.  Peabody        .....        New  York 

Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine Boston 

*Mrs.  W.  H.  Powers Philadelphia 

Mr.  H.  E.  Pei.i,EW Washington 

Rev.  Dr.  Quinn         ........         Iowa 


Appendix  D.  459 


Mr.  John  C.  Ropes Boston 

Mr.  F.  W.  Rhinelander  .         .         .         .        New  York 

Dr.  Wii^liam  C.  Rieves New  York 

Mr.  Wii^wam  RocKEFEEiyER New  York 

Miss  Hannah  F.  Randoi^ph Philadelphia 

Mrs.  Shephard Providence,  R.  I. 

Mrs.  W.  D.  S1.0ANE ,         .         New  York 

Through  Rev.  Dr.  Shipman  .....        New  York 

Mr.  Chari.es  F.  Stickney New  York 

Mr.  a.  Scrymser New  York 

*Mr.  W.  K.  SheIvDON New  York 

^Mrs.  Robert  L.  Stuart New  York 

Mr.  W.  C.  SchermERHORN New  York 

Mr.  T.  a.  SchermERHORN New  York 

^Mr.  J.  H.  Shoenberger New  York 

*Dr.  George  C.  Shattuck Boston 

Mr.  a.  F.  STuyvesant New  York 

Mrs.  EmiIvY  G.  Stui^E Connecticut 

Messrs.  Smith,  Hogg,  and  Gardner   .        ...        .      Boston 

Rev.  Ai,ex.  Mackay  Smith Washington 

Mr.  George  S.  St.  Arnaud Paris 

Mr.  John  J.  Thompson New  York 

Mrs.  S.  F.  Thompson New  York 

CoE.  Wii^eiam  ly.  Trenhoi^m New  York 

Miss  a.  G.  Thayer Boston 

Mrs.  C.  M.  Titus Hartford 

Mr.  Cornewus  VandereieT New  York 

*Mrs.  Wieeiam  H.  VanderbilT     ....         New  York 

Mrs.  M.  L.  Vanderbiet New  York 

Rev.  M.  Van  Rensselaer New  York 

Mrs.  Mary  J.  WinThrop New  York 

^Mrs.  R.  C.  WinThrop Boston 

Mr.  ChareeS  B.  WiTherEEE Boston 

Mr.  a.  G.  Weeks Boston 

Mr.  Henry  White New  York 

*Miss  H.  A.  Wood Philadelphia 

Mr.  C.  a.  Wieeiams          ....        New  London,  Conn. 
Mr   Fred.  A.  White London,  Eng. 


46o  Led  On  ! 


APPENDIX  E 


Phii.ade;i,phia,  December  15,  1879. 
Such  unjust  public  criticisms  having  be^n  ehcited  by 
the  passage  by  the  United  States  Senate  of  a  Resolution 
to  lease  the  Charleston  arsenal  to  the  Holy  Communion 
Church  Institute,  it  gives  us  pleasure  as  Northern  men, 
differing  in  political  opinion  from  the  rector  of  that  Insti- 
tute, but  personally  acquainted  with  him,  and  with  his 
noble  work,  carried  on  by  him  in  Charleston,  to  testify  in 
his  behalf.  A  more  unselfish,  devoted,  and  tolerant 
clergyman  than  the  Rev.  A.  Toomer  Porter  it  has  never 
been  our  lot  to  meet.  He  has  devoted  all  of  his  private 
means,  and  the  whole  of  his  life  and  matchless  energy  to 
bring  in  and  board  and  educate  the  poverty-stricken  sons 
of  South  Carolina  without  charge;  he  is  training  for  useful 
positions  in  life  boys  who  would  otherwise  grow  up  in  igno- 
rance. It  can  hardly  be  a  reproach  that  many  of  these 
boys  are  of  Revolutionary  lineage.  The  assertion  that  his 
school  is  a  "  rebel  school ' '  is  amply  met  by  the  fact  that 
when  his  more  advanced  scholars  have  needed  collegiate 
education  they  have  been  sent  to  Schenectady,  New  York, 
and  Hartford,  Connecticut.  One  of  his  largest  contributors 
was  a  colored  man  in  Charleston.  If  to  be  an  Episcopal 
Institute  is  sectarian,  it  is  of  that  kind  which  instructs  and 
feeds  the  poor,  clothes  the  naked,  and  builds  hospitals  and 
infirmaries.  The  more  of  such  sectarianism  the  better. 
No  American  can  read  the  roll  of  the  Holy  Communion 
Church  Institute  without  feeling  pride  and  thankfulness 
that  the  young  Francis  Marions  and  Isaac  Haynes  of  to- 
day are  receiving  from  the  United  States  Government 
even  so  small  a  boon  as  the  use  of  a  dilapidated  United 
States  arsenal. 

John  Wei.ch,  James  W.  Robins,  Nelson  Mc Vicar, 

Thomas  Robins,  Thomas  Clyde,  Edw.  T.  Buckley, 

IvEMUEL  Coffin,  m.  Russel  Thayer,  Geo.  N.  Conarroe, 

J.  Andrews  Harris,  Alex.  Brown,  Geo.  H.  Kirkham. 


Appendix  G.  461 


APPENDIX  F 


So  many  of  those  friends  of  thirtj^  yes,  of  twenty,  3'ears 
ago  are  dead.  While  they  were  living  I  often  told  them  of 
my  gratitude,  and  now  in  Paradise,  I  trust  they  are  reap- 
ing a  rich  reward.  Near  the  close  of  the  second  year  of 
the  Institution,  I  received  a  letter  from  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Huntington,  then  Professor  of  Greek  in  Trinity  College, 
Hartford,  offering  tuition,  room-rent,  and  one  hundred 
dollars  towards  expenses  of  any  boy  I  would  send  there. 
I  had  never  looked  so  far  as  that.  I  only  hoj^ed  to  fit 
boys  with  some  education  to  go  out  into  life,  but  here  was 
expansion.  It  was  unsought,  and  I  felt  that  God  was 
leading  me  on.  Of  course  it  gave  great  impetus  to  the 
school.  I  sent  one  boy,  Josiah  B.  Perry,  on  in  September, 
Mr.  W.  P.  Clyde  giving  me  a  free  pass  for  him.  And 
here  I  will  state  that  all  ni}^  bo3's  who  have  since  gone  to 
Trinity,  to  Union,  and  to  Hobart  Colleges — and  they 
number  more  than  two  hundred — Mr.  Clyde  passed  free 
on  his  steamers  until  within  the  past  two  years,  and  now 
he  still  passes  them  at  reduced  rates.  I  made  a  calcula- 
tion some  time  since  and  found  in  the  item  of  transporta- 
tion alone,  he  had  given  me  in  furtherance  of  this  work 
nearly  seven  thousand  dollars. 

APPENDIX   G 

I  find,  in  my  mission  in  1866,  I  preached  in  its  interest 
at  Holy  Trinity,  Grace,  Brooklyn  ;  at  Newton,  Long 
Island  ;  at  St.  Bartholomew,  Transfiguration,  St.  Luke's, 
Grace,  Ascension,  Christ  Churches,  New  York ;  Emman- 
uel Advent,  St.  Paul's,  Boston  ;  St.  Peter's  and  St. 
Mary's,  Brooklyn  ;  Christ  Church,  New  Rochelle  ;  St. 
John's,  Hartford  ;  Christ  Church,  Hartford  ;  Christ 
Church,  Rye;  St.  John's,  Grace  Church,  Buffalo.    Strange 


462  Led  On  ! 

how  many  of  these  facts  have  passed  out  of  my  mind, 
but  the  record  made  at  the  time  has  brought  back  many 
recollections.  When  it  is  remembered  that  when  I 
landed  in  New  York,  on  April  6,  1866,  i  was  a  total 
stranger,  and  all  this  was  done  by  the  last  of  August,  it 
shows  with  what  a  generous  welcome  I  was  met,  and  I 
think  it  was  the  groundwork  for  my  attachment  for  the 
North. 

APPENDIX  H 

THE  ENGLISH   COMMITTEE 

The  Eari,  of  Aberdeen,  Chairman. 

Fred  A.  White,  Esq.,  Secretary,  170  Queens  Gate,  London 

A.  H.  Brown,  M.  P Liverpool 

Rev.  Canon  Flemming,  Vicar  of  St.  Michael's,  Chester  Square 
Rev.  Canon  WiIvKINSON,  Vicar  of  St.  Peter's  .  Eaton  Square 

The  Hon.  and  Rev.  E.  Carr  Gi^yn,  Vicar  of  St.  Mary's, 

Kensington 
Rev.  C.  Green  .        .        .        .St.  Paul's  near  Beckenham 

Rev.  T.  TeignmouTh  Shore,  Chaplain  to  the  Queen. 
REV.  Dr.  Tremi^ETT,  Vicar  of  St.  Peter's  .    Belsize  Park 

Howard  Gii.i,iat,  Esq 4  Crosby  Square 

Leidham  White,  Esq. 

Thos.  Kingscote,  Esq.,  Treasurer. 

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